Hellmind
by Osmodai
Summary: This is the story of doctor Samuel Hayden (of Doom 2016 fame), a genius scientist and one of the two survivors of the demonic invasion on Mars. He attempts to salvage the situation only to receive an ironic punishment for his hubris by way of dimensional travel. He arrives in an unfamiliar world, and is followed by his enemies that seek to retrieve what he had stolen from them.
1. 1-0

Dim, red light seeped into the office with the lifting of armored curtains protecting the windows. Considering what has taken place recently, such defense measures were very much warranted, but Doctor Hayden enjoyed thinking the most in well lit areas. The 3 meter tall cyborg sat in his giant chair and gazed into the Martian Sun. One of the wealthiest and migthiest people in the whole solar system, the director of two most influential organisations in the world - the Global Science Council and the Union Aerospace Corporation, was now sitting solemn and humbled. His cybernetic eye hidden behind a distinctly inhuman, vertical slit that spanned most of his otherwise featureless facial plate allowed him to witness this celestial body in all it's glory. Meek, ordinary humans had to avert their eyes from it, but he transcended their limitations. He could look straight into the Sun's face, like an equal to an equal. If only more people were ready to improve upon their weak, natural bodies like he did…

But in that moment, he could not feel any pride of his superiority over ordinary humans. He had failed mankind for the first time. He allowed demons from hell, biblical hell, to destroy his greatest gift to humanity, and thus deprive it of it the limitless energy he stole from the devils.

It annoyed him slightly that it wasn't his own transhuman self that ended the invasion, but that single minded brute. Of course, he unearthed him from his imprisonment in hell for this very ocassion, even if at the time he thought this was a largely redundant precaution. That man was a brutal monster, a killer without mercy or remorse, a primitive being. But in the end, what did it matter? Without Hayden, the Slayer of demons would still be imprisoned in Hell, and without the Slayer, Samuel would most likely be dead. Mutual assistance and gain is something that's always favorable, and it's not like the warrior is exactly an ordinary human either. Originating in a different timeline, wearing superior quality powered armor, possessing utterly superhuman agility and reflexes… Yes, he was a transhuman as well, he just chose to hone his brutal nature instead of his mental faculties. And despite this, he must have retained at least some higher cognitive functions if he really was the leader of the Sentinels. The demon-slaying warriors of D'nur followed him into the depths of hell, if the stone tablets were to be believed. It still perplexed Hayden just how did he become such a monstrous war machine. Argent D'nur was technologically advanced, but Sentinels' armor was nothing in comparison to the Slayer's praetor suit, and there are no known historical records of the Sentinels ever being as feared and unstoppable as the Slayer. Supposedly, he was blessed by the Seraphim with speed and strength, but he has never seen any evidence suggesting they even exist. In the end, no matter what Samuel thought of him and his strong drive for wanton destruction, he was grateful for his help.

Unfortunately, he couldn't bask in the sublime light and ponder on various irrelevant quandries any longer. Just a few hours ago, the demonic invasion was ended, and he needed to deal with the aftermath. Doubly so since he was the last living being on the planet and he no longer had subordinates to do the grunt work for him. Not even VEGA. Thinking about the AI has killed any remains of his somewhat positive mood.

VEGA was his second greatest creation, the most loyal and competent servant imaginable – and he was now dead. The fact that he volunteered to sacrifice himself and that it was not in vain did not help much. The AI was the closest thing to a friend that he had ever had and one of the greatest achievements of humankind, a next step in its technological evolution. He understandably felt mournful. But what was done, was done. There was no point in brooding any longer, as much as he wanted to indulge himself in it. He still had an utter disaster to deal with. Tens of thousands of employees dead, their souls trapped in hell, most facilities in utter ruin, argent tower demolished beyond repair…

He realized that for some reason, the destruction of property hit him harder that the death of his employees. For a moment, he felt a chill as he realized he might be losing his humanity and empathy, his only fear that he ever had before embarking on his journey to transcending humanity. But then rationalized that it's a fairly normal emotional response considering that most of them were insane demon cultists that betrayed him. Including Olivia.

Her betrayal hurt him the most and put the most shame on him. He was most likely the one to blame for her descent into madness. He put so much faith in her, sponsored her education, personally guided her through her first steps in the world of business and science, and in the end that one artefact he sent her, the one that made her join the UAC and his research institute, sparked her obsession with hell and demons, lead to her insanity. Olivia was the first protégé of his foundation and his favorite student, yet in the end she was his greatest failure and disappointment, one he would remember until the end of his days.

That was hardly the end of misery that met him. He had to deal with various authorities soon. It wouldn't be long before somebody noticed that any and all communications from Mars had ceased. Somebody would demand answers, and he was the last man alive that could be held responsible.

The cyborg stood from his chair and started pacing around the room, his mostly artificial brain kicked into overdrive and let low level habits take control of his body to leave more computational power to problem solving.

He wasn't really afraid of any consequences. He was one of UACs directors, as well as the general director of the Global Science Council. He had more power than any single government in his palms. But it still put his influence within those organizations in question. Could he be forced to sign his own resignation? Would numerous factions opposing him gain any real traction?

He did still have his wild card. The Crucible. That sword had access to a near endless ocean of energy. He wasn't sure if it was due to some form of transdimensional connection to the otherwise sealed Well, or if the artefact held that power within itself, perhaps warping space and time to achieve otherwise impossible energy densities. Regardless of its exact mechanism of action, it could be used as an alternative to the now defunct argent tower. Perhaps also as a means to easier extrauniversal travel. He could spin this whole debacle as a victory with it. He could convince the board of directors that the Crucible is worth the sacrifice of Martian facilities, that he intentionally sent the Doom Slayer into Hell to retrieve it, that the demonic invasion was just an unforeseen counter attack. That humanity would gain something precious despite the chaos that engulfed Mars. He could easily hide the fact that it was his most trusted subordinate that opened the gates of Hell. Yes, that seemed like a good course of action, but he would need a proof of concept, something to prove that the Crucible was as powerful as he suspects.

An hour later, Samuel Hayden was standing in front of a jury-rigged device. It was a makeshift, small scale copy of the argent tower's energy transmission device he made from salvage lying around the argent facility. One of the advantages of having a cybernetic brain was the ability to quickly design machinery, and he put that one to good use here.

Samuel cradled the Crucible in his hand. He wasn't sure if his method of harvesting its energy was particularly efficient or even possible, but it was a very educated guess. He would expand the energy blade and thrust it into the magnetized chamber of the machine, which would siphon the blade's energy. Hopefully the Crucible would then replenish it to keep the blade's integrity. Not the most sophisticated or elegant approach, but doctor Hayden was not a man to scoff at compromises.

UAC's expeditionary forces would be here in an hour, maybe less. He desperately needed his proof of concept generator operational by then. It would provide power to the remaining facilities and lessen the impression of complete destruction that the base was making at the moment. It would provide proof that he achieved something worthwhile in this whole sorry debacle.

With a shake of his left hand, he activated the demonic sword. The teeth at its tip moved outwardsto form a cross guard, while a short blade made of an as of yet unidentified black stone sprung forward. Split of a second later, the black stone unleashed a torrent of red plasma that quickly formed itself into the shape of a giant blade ended with a hook. Soon after, inscriptions in a demonic language appeared upon the side of the blade. That was the one thing that worried him out about the artefact – those letters did not appear on any sensors other than visual. For all intents and purposes, they were not there, only some sort of an exotic optical illusion – except there was absolutely nothing to make that illusion present. But that didn't matter right now. A mystery for another time.

With a precise movement that could only be achieved by a mechanical arm, he thrust the sword into the chamber. Tendrils of red energy reached out of it, touching his armored hand and searing off the white paint on it. If he had a face, he would have scowled. That wasn't supposed to happen, all energy was supposed to be contained within the magnetic trap. Did the sword somehow increase its power output?

He did not have time to ponder on this question any more, as a flash of red-white light erupted from the chamber and consumed him whole. Moments later, his body was flying at high speeds through a hellscape, Crucible still in his palm. He quickly approached ground, on a collision course with a very confused knight of Hell. The moment the two collided, another bright flash of light erupted from the demonic sword, and darkness engulfed Samuel's mind.

He woke up lying stretched on the ground, in a puddle of blood and meat. Slowly, he raised his head to scan his surroundings. What he saw short circuited his brain for a moment.

He and the demon he pulverized were in the middle of a city, on what appeared to be Earth. For the first time since the invasion of Mars begun, Samuel panicked. If the gates of hell were to open on humankind's homeworld, it would be a massacre on a scale far surpassing the terrifying things he had already witnessed recently. As far as he knew, only the summoner species of demons could open dimensional portals on their own, and they were very limited in scope at that. If his action somehow broke the divide between the worlds…

His horror only intensified when he noticed that not only was he buried up to his ankles in a dead hell knight, but a group of imps prowled around, scaling buildings and breaking in through windows. He lost any remaining control of himself and he let out a mortified scream, which due to his voice synthesizer sounded more like a blood curdling war horn. A few of the demons turned their heads his way and scrambled to surround him while throwing balls of plasma at him.

Samuel transferred more power to his actuators and sprung into action, but despite his superhuman reflexes and agility his giant stature made him suffer a few hits. Balls of argent-generated plasma splashed upon his metal skin, searing off its white paint and threatening the integrity of his outer armor. It was dark, but neither he nor the demons had any problems seeing. He had his cybernetic enhancements to help with that, but what granted them their low light sight? They were such a beautiful conundrum of biology. Living, organic beings whose very cells could manipulate and utilize pure argent energy. It was a damn shame he would have to kill those present here in self defense.

Before any more attacks could be thrown his way, he caught up to the nearest imp, ripped his torso from his legs and launched the now limp body parts at two other imps scaling a wall. One managed to dodge, but the other was struck by the torso, lost his grip and fell two stories down. The demon survived the fall, but Samuel was already there, waiting for him. He gripped the monster's head and tore it off it's neck. Another fireball hit him in the shoulder, this time managing to slightly impede the proper functioning of one of his actuators. Before any more could contact, he swiftly crouched with one hand firmly planted against the ground and then lunged forward at another imp, impaling it's chest on his metallic fingers, which clasped at the beast's heart and crushed it in their grip. Before a second passed, Samuel was already moving towards his next target. An unusually fast ball of particularly hot plasma impacted his leg and violently jerked it away mid-step, causing him to trip. Samuel managed to regain control of his momentum by moving into a roll, but prolonged movement along a single axis caused him to suffer another hit. Imps proved more annoying and accurate than he ever thought they could be.

"Maybe he was right in the end. Maybe all of you really do need to die." His robotic voice did not betray any emotion, but the very fact that he decided to speak to beings completely unable to comprehend his words, and to – what's even more unthinkable – start to be inclined towards agreeing with the slayer of demons, was the manifestation of his growing anger and annoyance.

"Is this your vain attempt at revenge, or are you just after the Crucible? I denied the death sentence he put on your whole species, and this is how you repay my mercy?" He spoke, still in the eerily calm tone, after being simultaneously hit by four fireballs launched from four different windows by imps hiding in buildings. It was obvious that they were intelligent and sentient, and he did feel remorse at their deaths because of that. But he could not help but resent them for their unwarranted aggression, their invasion, and now – their attempts at killing him and attacking Earth itself. He really did regret having to kill. But right now, he understood the Slayer a little bit.

Another imp fell limp to the ground, the last one outside. Samuel started running and smashed through one of the lower windows and the surrounding wall to reach an imp that was hiding there before, but somebody beat him to it.

A tall individual clad in blue powered armor stood in the unlit room holding an imp off the ground by the back of it's neck. He visibly changed his posture after catching sight of Samuel. He quickly moved into a combat stance, facing the cyborg on slightly bend legs, with his right one put forward, the kicking imp dangling in front of him as a form of a meat shield. The man's lower face was not hidden by his helmet, but his expression hardly displayed anything but absolute focus.

"Mannequin"


	2. 1-1

"Are those things Bonesaw's doing?" the armored man spoke in a harsh yet wary tone.

"Are they artificial, or have you turned innocent civilians into these wretched forms, you deranged maniacs?" This time, some venom entered the man's voice.

Samuel instantly became very confused at the man's words. The way he spoke suggested that he apparently had mistaken him for someone else. But who in the whole solar system wouldn't know him, the person that solved the world's energy crisis and was partially responsible for the end of the hopefully last wars humankind has ever fought? Samuel was a very public figure, and a very recognizable one at that. Something was wrong here.

He feared the most obvious conclusion to this problem. That this was not his Earth. The Crucible was very much capable of transuniversal manipulation, communication and transportation, that was evident from his previous experimentation and demonic texts. The existence of Argent D'nur was a proof that alternative Earths existed, since they were obviously a region of it transposed over hell – a region that was not missing on his home planet. He wanted to cling to the hope that this man was just very uninformed and cut off from any and all media, but he would not give out any information on how he appeared here out as a precaution against the more probable possibility.

"My name is Samuel Hayden. I mean you no harm." The doctor said in an attempt at a polite tone, which was difficult with his voice synthesizer. Maybe he should've included other options for it than just fearsome and awe inspiring. He postponed his usually exaggerated gesturing in fear of appearing too aggressive with any excessive movements.

The man shifted nervously, and his face displayed an expression Samuel would expect to see if he had just declared himself God Emperor of the universe or something equally outlandish. Hayden also noted that the man still did not kill the imp he held. Another clue to the true nature of this situation. Most members of any armed forces in the solar system he knew would not hesitate before killing a demon, or as the public knew them, a dangerous argent dimension creature. Even though the term dimension was as accurate there as calling protection of nature 'ecology'.

"You might want to dispose of this creature. It's dangerous. The scorch marks on my body came from its kin." He said while slowly raising his arm to point at the imp. He intentionally chose not to reveal the fact that by now he was quite knowledgeable of the species and to avoid hinting at their hellish nature.

"You speak." The armored man eventually recovered from his momentary shock that he fell into after Samuel started talking, and stated the obvious like it was a groundbreaking discovery. After that remark, Samuel started considering a third option – that the man was simply insane. He needed to investigate more.

"Yes, I obviously do. What would make you think otherwise?" Doctor asked politely and remained motionless while speaking.

"Mannequin does not speak." The armored person said, to which Samuel replied with a nod. Whatever this mannequin was, he wasn't it, and agreeing on any differences between it and him would only be beneficial. "If you really are as harmless as you say, then you'll wait here with me. PRT trucks are already coming in. We'll take you in, alongside this creature, and you _will_ comply. Understood?" He continued with a steely, harsh tone, remaining motionless himself.

The name PRT didn't exactly ring any bells. It brought the PRC, or Planetary Resource Corporation, to Samuel's mind, but the two were obviously different entities.

"Does this mean I am under arrest?" Samuel asked. He was not actually worried about that. If this was just an insane policeman or gendarme, he would be immediately let out, and if it was indeed an alien world – then refusing to comply with an order from what appeared to be some sort of law enforcement or military would not be wise. That's why he added "Actually, nevermind. I will come with you willingly."

"Don't even think about double-crossing me. If you _are_ Mannequin, or if you do anything that can be interpreted as an act aggression, you _will_ be neutralized." The man said in a surprisingly level voice, despite the obvious signs of stress this stand-off was having on him – like the drop of sweat that fell into the corner of his mouth. His choice of words confirmed that the "mannequin" was either a name, or a title, apparently belonging to someone or something dangerous. If there was significant physical resemblance between this entity and Samuel, that would explain the extremely wary, combative reaction. The threat implied at the end of the sentence worried Samuel, but only slightly. He didn't know what he was coming up against, so he must've taken into account that whatever is coming to him might be too much to handle if it goes south. Still, there was hardly a better choice. If this man was indeed law enforcement, any attempt at fleeing could warrant him a criminal record he did not desire. If he wasn't, then he would have to rely on his wits and the advantages of his cybernetic body to find a good way out, and he was decently confident in his ability to handle both combat and diplomacy. Putting himself on the wrong side of law was a much bigger risk.

"I would do no such thing." Samuel replied, spreading his hands apart with palms open to further reinforce his peaceful message. Thankfully the rather nightmarishly looking Crucible was stored safely in a container within his back. The stranger reacted very aggressively to his gesture by drawing what appeared to be an extendable, modern looking halberd from his back with his free hand, but after seeing no further movement from the cyborg he lowered the weapon a little.

"No moving unless I tell you to."

"Of course." Samuel replied, and locked all his actuators in place.

-

Fifteen minutes have passed before the PRT trucks finally arrived. Men wearing black combat armor and heavy backpacks connected to some sort of handheld sprayer or launcher poured out of them and surrounded the cyborg, who was by now standing outside, with his back exposed to the power armored individual who ordered him to put his hands behind his head and move inside the biggest of the trucks, which was opened for him soon after. Samuel complied with all their demands. The power armored man tried shoving him inside one of the vehicles forcibly, probably to imply that his previous threat was dead serious, but he failed to move the cyborg's body much. Samuel's stature and considerable weight were too much for him. Doctor quelled the chuckle that he wanted to let out after that before it could leave his voice synthesizer.

His amusement was soon tarnished when one of the troops informed him, in a steady tone that nonetheless did betray his tension, that he would be immobilized by some form of containment foam, which – according to them – would render him effectively paralyzed. Making him very vulnerable in what appeared to be an alien world.

Before he agreed, he asked where he would be taken. The answer – Brockton Bay PRT HQ, pretty much confirmed that this was indeed an alien reality. He had a map of the entire Earth in his memory banks, complete with even the tiniest villages. No Brockton Bay present there. No major organization wielding any police authority named "PRT". It was obvious by now.

Through the still open door he saw that the furiously squirming imp was now departed from the armored soldier and being apprehended by five men. Despite its small size, they could not compete with its strength, at least until the armored soldier came back, visibly angry due to this interrupting his talk with what appeared to be the commander of this force, to help them and put heavy metal cuffs on the demon's ankles and wrists. It was then immediately moved into the back of a smaller truck.

He was considering fleeing more seriously now. But if those people were capable of dispensing the containment foam from their launchers, then he would not have a chance without a distraction, and he had very few options there. Outside of drawing the Crucible and throwing it at someone, he could do nothing to take their attention from him.

Thus, he decided to comply, even if the risks involved made him anxious. He walked into the truck, heavily hunched to fit inside. The troops, as they promised, sprayed some sort of quickly foaming liquid that very soon hardened. And it hardened really well. The cyborg, for all the physical might of his actuators, could not move an inch. The armored individual moved in behind him, his halberd held firmly in his arms and constantly pointed at Samuel's head.

He wondered idly if this substance could stop the Doom Slayer or any of the bigger demons in their tracks.

-

Another fifteen minutes later, they arrived at their destination. The truck doors were opened and a translucent liquid was sprayed on Samuel, dissolving the containment foam and freeing him from his confinement. He crawled out with slow and careful movements.

He was immediately surrounded by a cordon of troops identical to the ones that took him here. Some were wearing the same bulky foam sprayers, some had what appeared to be very low caliber assault rifles. He felt relief at the sight. Even if they had excellent means of stopping him, they seemed to have no weapon that could harm him available on site. Of course, this did not mean one could not be shipped here on short order, so he did not relax yet.

Before him stood a big and bulky, glass and steel building with a shield logo above the main entrance. Letters "P.R.T" were transposed over it. It was far from being monumental, but combined with their multitude of armed troops it relayed a sense of legitimacy and resources that made Samuel think he made the right choice not to defy them.

The power armored man left the site on what appeared to be a fancy motorbike, and the cyborg was lead inside the building, moving through it's wide and tall halls without much of a problem. The inside look was a bit weird. What seemed like pieces of museum-worthy technology and architecture were interspaced with modern and armored sliding doors. The clothing of non-troop personnel was also odd, like something from a period piece. Was this Earth not equivalent time-wise to his own, or did these people just advance and change according to much different patterns? Another question he should look into finding an answer to.

The cyborg and his entourage descended deep underground by an elevator as modern as the sliding doors. It was also suspiciously big, as if big loads or subjects as big as him were expected to use it.

The group quickly arrived at a level that was obviously a prison. A dozen of small rooms separated by thick, reinforced walls and more of the sliding doors, even more armored that the usual. So, as he suspected, he was indeed under arrest. If this "Mannequin" really was as dangerous as the stress he caused everybody who saw him indicated, then he guessed that this was the reasonable course of action for law enforcement or military police, whichever the PRT was.

He entered his cell under his own actuator power, with no one even daring to move closer than a meter from him. The door behind him slid shut without any apparent human action, and he was left in complete silence. It seemed to be the effect of muted construction of the cell, a long mainstay of prisons in his world. There were no obvious cameras, but he was pretty sure that he was observed by some means. He considered the quality of his containment, tried to make a few scratches at the door and succeeded, even if the marks left were very shallow. Given enough time, he could dig himself out of here, but it was a useless piece of knowledge – a response from the PRT would arrive well before he could finish doing that.

An anxious half an hour has passed before a very tired voice of a woman spoke from seemingly nowhere.

"I am director Emily Piggot of the PRT ENE. This is the interrogation of an individual calling themselves Samuel Hayden, suspected of being the known murderer Mannequin, and of suspicious activity involving an as of yet unclassified parahuman fight that saw Armsmaster of the Protectorate ENE engage in combat with unidentified threats and find the interrogated individual. This conversation is recorded for further investigation in the presence of two PRT officers. Shall we continue?" The woman sighed after the first sentence.

He didn't even need to try to push them to reveal anything about his world, they showered him with information of their own volition. If there was one time when he was thankful for bureaucracy, it was now.

So, Mannequin, a known murderer looking similar to the rather unique appearance of Samuel – that answered at least as many questions as it opened. Was it a coincidence, or was it this universe's version of him, bent on destroying humanity instead of elevating it higher? If that was true, he already hated the man, for an antithesis of his would be the gravest insult the whims of the universe could've thrown at him and this world's humankind.

"I am ready to answer all your questions to the best of my abilities." He replied truthfully. That he would attempt to subtly interrogate his interlocutor just as much as he himself would be, he left unspoken.

"What were you doing on April eleventh night in the docks, nearby a site where four dead, heavily mutilated corpses lied, similar to the unidentified entity which was later apprehended by the hero Armsmaster?" Came the question, and Samuel barely stopped himself from swearing in his mind. After such an easy start, a question about his activities and motivations in an unknown world, where he could not tell anybody the truth yet. He needed a cover story believable for a three meter tall metal man to whom the only similar looking person was a known murderer. It was certainly a tough task, but he could manage. The mention of Armsmaster, apparently the power armored individual he met earlier, being so casually called a hero surprised him enough to impede his focus for a millisecond.

"I was scavenging for parts to work on my mechanical body when I was taken by surprise by four odd looking creatures, which immediately started attacking me. They seemed to be capable of very agile movement and throwing well aimed projectiles of hot, self-containing plasma, which has left worrying scorch damage on my exterior, as well as impeded the functioning of my actuators with excessive heat and hurt some of my vital functions. I dispatched them all in self-defense." He spoke in his usual, infinitely confident tone designed exactly to garner reactions of approval and agreeance from people. He chose scavenging as his cover story mainly because he's noted the area he arrived in to be somewhat ruined and abandoned. He assumed that looting it was not uncommon for the denizens of that part of the city, and that it would be a believable pastime for a person built mostly out of cybernetic and mechanical parts. Of course, scavenging could be punishable, but certainly not as harshly as being a murderer, and those accusations have already been thrown at him.

Samuel intentionally chose to mention his actuators functioning at a non-optimal capacity in hit areas of his body and framed it as a big concern. Appearing as weak as possible could only serve to defuse the fear the PRT seemed to still have for him. Unfortunately, soon would come the question of what he was doing in the city itself, and that was a bit more difficult to justify for someone in an alien world.

"Do you declare yourself a new independent or rogue tinker, then?"

And another surprise. "Tinker" was a moniker used in the context of Mannequin previously, but its meaning in the version of English he was familiar with was that of a person enjoying working and fiddling with machines, a designation that could be easily applied to the somewhat inhuman and obviously robotic bodies of him and, probably, the murderer. The usage of the rather colloquial term baffled him, but he decided to give a positive answer.

"Yes. I am a resident of Brockton Bay, and I've recently transferred my brain into a robotic body. Is that a problem?"

"There is no person called Samuel Hayden registered as living here," The moment he has heard those words spoken, Samuel swore silently in his mind, this time not stopping himself. It was such a stupid mistake, to forget that he has given his true name out, a name that for all he knew he might have shared with that Mannequin person. He felt all the anxiety return to him in an instant.

"Is that your cape name?" The voice continued, and a lot of the anxiety in the doctor's mind turned into confusion. He could not even begin to fathom what connotations that term could even carry, but it seemed like a chance to sell his true name off as an alias. He took it.

"It is. Do you require me to give you my true name?"

"No, it is not necessary. All parahumans are allowed to keep their identities secret." Parahumans? Is this what transhumans were called in this world? That seemed to be the most likely answer, since his posthumanity was so apparent, and thus he took this little curiosity of a word in stride, and decided to speak up before his interrogator could start talking again in an attempt to avoid any more difficult questions while clearing his name on his own terms.

"I'm sorry, but I'm new to this whole 'parahuman' thing. I've finished my new body just yesterday, and when I go to look for some spare metal to tinker with it a bit more, I get attacked by some fire spewing monsters and I'm put under arrest soon after for whatever reason. Am I going to have any trouble? I did nothing wrong!" The stream of words that his body synthesized was a carefully crafted thing, designed to make him appear meek, scared, confused, while urging his interrogator to get to the point he's most interested in – what will happen to him.

"No, you are not. It seems unlikely that you could be the Mannequin, too many things are not checking out for that. Armsmaster will be here shortly to debrief you, and then you'll be free to go."


	3. 1-2

Samuel has been waiting for around ten minutes in his cell before Armsmaster, still clad in his blue power armor and, as doctor duly noted, a halberd strapped to his back, entered. He took a stool that was in the room and sat on it.

"You want to sit?" He spoke. This time, his tone was more tired than stressed. Beard adorning his face was in a much worse state that the last time they met, and the man bore an expression of complete exhaustion and resignation on his mouth.

"I do not need to." Was Samuel's answer.

"Your body doesn't tire, does it?" A note of jealousy appeared in Armsmaster's voice.

"It does not." Samuel decided to remain passive in this conversation for now.

"Recently I've been thinking about augmenting my body as well, especially after the ordeal that was today. I have to apologize to you for how our first meeting went. You looked a lot like Mannequin, and that maniac has a kill order on him. I see the differences now, though. All your limbs have rigid joints, not every part of you is covered in chrome paint, and your body is much bigger. Besides, the fucker was spotted not long ago far away from here. Do I assume correctly that you don't have much in the way of actual organs anymore as well?"

"Yes, the only organic thing in my entire body is my brain, maintained by a completely artificial life support system."

"Thought so. How did you even do that, though? Transplant your brain? You obviously couldn't have done that yourself, could you now?" Armsmaster's tone changed almost imperceptibly, but it was too little for Samuel to deduce the reason behind that.

"I had help. I know a very good neurosurgeon. It was a risky and difficult operation, but it succeeded." This time, Samuel didn't even need to lie. He only omitted the fact that said neurosurgeon was actually a team of nine physicians, best the solar system had to offer.

"Sound like they are really good. We could use the help of such a skilled professional. Will you tell me who they are?" Now Samuel knew what the change in tone meant. A trap. It seemed like they still did not trust him too much.

"I'm sorry, but I was told I could have my identity remain secret, and telling you the name of my coworkers would jeopardize that." Doctor's tone, on the other hand, remained as calm and level as ever.

"Yes, my apologies. But 'Samuel Hayden' seems awfully like a real name. What's up with that?" Again, the man was obviously after him, looking for holes in his story. He wasn't sure if it was standard procedure here, or if he was really that terrifying.

"It's intentional, meant to lure people into thinking I'm just careless and trap them in looking for a nonexistent person."

"I'd advise you to drop that act. Using anything resembling real names is an insult to the other capes and the unwritten rules. Even New Wave have normal cape names."

Samuel noted that the longer the conversation went, the more tired and unpleasant his interlocutor was.

"I see. Do you have any ideas to help me out here? Any propositions?" Samuel asked hopeful that the answer would finally explain to him what cape names were exactly.

"Judging by the way you look, I'd say something along the lines of 'Cyborg', or 'Metal Giant'. Most capes choose their name after a trait that defines them, or their powers. What can you do, outside of being a mass murderer look-alike?" Armsmaster said, his tone returning to normal despite his rude words. It seemed that for at least this moment, he was being genuine and had no terribly ulterior motives. "Many tinkers take names after their specialty, or their greatest build. At the start of my career, I built mostly weapons, for myself and my teammates, hence my name. Do you know your specialty?" He added immediately.

It became apparent that 'a cape' was some kind of a person, gifted with 'powers', whatever that implied. It was suiting nicely Samuel's interpretation of them as transhumans. It also seemed that 'tinkers' were individuals that had a particular knack for technology. The way he it was described to him, he almost wanted to think it was some kind of an external force that was creating those parahumans, not a natural evolution or human-directed augmentation.

The question seemed to be inane enough, he suspected that he had every right not to know the answer to it. Lacking knowledge of oneself was a very common trait after all.

"No. So you are a tinker as well?"

Armsmaster chuckled in a vaguely mocking way. "Yes, I am. I know that it can get a bit confusing, with non-tinkers parading around in power armor and tinker-tech weapons, but I thought a tinker would recognize another tinker on sight. Well, I guess you don't really know what you are doing. I must say, though, that what you've done so far is somewhat impressive. Most new guys only manage a laser pistol, or a powered helmet. How long have you been working in hiding?"

Ah, another trick question. "I'm sorry, but if I told you, you could trace various part purchases and power usage back to me." He tried to deflect the question.

"We would do no such thing. Could you turn that voice modulator, by the way? It's unnecessarily creepy."

"I'm afraid not, it's the specification of my voice synthesizer."

"Well then, we should talk about affiliations now."

Damn, this man just could not stop putting him in difficult situations.

"See, the law gives you leeway here. I'd obviously recommend joining the Protectorate, but we cannot force you to. You are free to become and independent hero or rogue, even sell your technology. You would need to pass it through us to get it approved into use then, but if you're not making profit of off it or proliferating it massively, then we have no right to intrude. Technically, we couldn't stop you from becoming a villain, but that would make us martial enemies." The threat in Armsmaster's tone at the end was very obvious. The man did not seem to know subtlety.

Constant usage of terms like hero, rogue and villain felt almost whimsical to Samuel. It was somewhat understandable that in this world of apparently a sharp divide between humans and powerful parahumans, certain easy ways to classify threats, allies and neutrals would be needed. But the choice of those particular words seemed childish nevertheless.

"So, after we are done here, I'll be completely free to go?"

"If you don't break any laws on your way out. You are not charged with anything, most new parahumans get a free pass even on manslaughter, within reason. I would warn you not to foolishly go into the streets looking like this, but you've obviously managed to stay hidden in the docks despite your… stature." Again, the last sentence contained suspicions the man didn't even try to mask.

"It's comparatively easy to remain hidden in those ruins, but I'm not so certain about this part of the city. Could you, perhaps, drive me back to where you found me?" Samuel said and hoped that the PRT HQ was not situated in the middle of nowhere. Even if it was, he could squirm his way out of this, but not without leaving his interlocutor in complete distrust of everything he's said so far. Another risk, and even more fuel for his anxiety.

"We can go now if you don't have any questions."

"I actually have a… request. Could you provide me with any access to mass information media, preferably wireless?" Samuel spoke, and immediately regretted that decision. The look on Armsmaster face was identical to the one he bore when they first spoke.

"What." After that, an anxious moment of silence had come, eventually mercifully ended by the armored man saying "You mean, like, Wi-Fi?"

"Yes, it will do." Samuel tried, almost panicking by now. After such a good run, another stupid mistake, one that could still cost him in the future. Apparently using that generic term was something very out of place here, and Samuel started doubting every decision he took since his arrival in this world.

"Uh, ok. It should have range here. You have some sort of radio transceiver in this body?" Armsmaster said, and his voice was more worried and suspicious than ever, which in turn worried Samuel even more.

"Yes, exactly." The cyborg momentarily put away his worries and searched the electromagnetic spectrum, eventually finding this 'Wi-Fi'. He analyzed the patterns present, and came to the conclusion that the architecture used to produce and receive the field was similar to some very old computers of his world. Kicking his massively parallel processors into overdrive, he engineered a way to connect and interface with the system.

Once inside, he started drifting through the stream of data that was opened before him, downloading all information that seemed useful, quickly filling the maximum bandwidth of the connection. Armsmaster's lower facial muscles subtly pulled as if he suddenly opened his eyes widely.

Exactly in the moment Samuel ended his intellectual and informative voyage through this planet's world wide connections, Armsmaster spoke in an odd happenstance of timing.

"I think we must go now"

-

The entire way back to the Docks they remained silent. After what concluded their talk, Armsmaster seemed very unwilling to talk, and very tense.

"What are you, really?" When the truck they travelled in stopped, the hero finally spoke. He sounded surprisingly clam and devoid of emotions that so often coloured his previous statements.

"Pardon?"

"How come a powerful tinker like you doesn't even know about Wi-Fi?" The hero spoke in a mocking tone.

"English is not my first language; I sometimes forget words and terms."

"You seem otherwise fluent."

"Perhaps it's a side effect of my recent operation. My brain might not have recovered completely yet."

"I sifted through all the information you've looked up. Why did you search for so many basic things with such intensity?" The hero unceremoniously ignored the previous point of the conversation and struck right to the heart.

Those were the words that ended the talk. After them, silence reigned for a good minute, before Samuel decided to leave the truck. Armsmaster jerked, as if moving to stop him, but he did not do that in the end.

-

Samuel picked up another discarded, severely damaged piece of clothing from the ground, and started adding it to his makeshift, hooded robe. The thing was looking horrendous, but it could pass as a very cheap costume for a poor cape with giant size as their superpower, which was the angle he was going for right now.

The information he mined from the worldwide network of the internet proved to be equal parts calming and worrying. This world was much more odd and outright absurd than he could've ever suspected, and it ensured that no matter how unusual he might have seemed to the local heroes, he hardly did anything unheard of in this world. Which included dimensional travel.

The works of professor Haywire, and what a disgustingly fancy name that was, were certainly interesting. He could not reach any information about the whereabouts of the man's technology or research notes, and he himself was already dead. Nonetheless, he created a stable bridge between two different realities. Samuel certainly could use this technology, which combined with his own expertise in physics could perhaps let him connect this world with his own.

He decided that he would not just retreat there if he was given a chance, though. This Earth was in a dire state. Torn by war and internal strife, afflicted by whatever was the cause of some people spontaneously exhibiting seemingly physics-breaking powers not unlike those possessed by demons, terrorized by power hungry maniac and the mindless destroyers that Endbringers were. No, if he ever managed to reach his own world, his base of power, he would bring the might of the UAC here, to heal this planet and it's people. To install a more stable social order, one which was not so obviously dominated by individuals randomly granted superiority over other humans, and to eliminate the Endbringers.

Those three beings were certainly fascinating, but it was painfully obvious that they needed to die. They, for all intents and purposes, declared war on humanity – just like demons did in his own reality. And it was necessary for them to meet the same end they met, especially since they could actually be particularly powerful demons. They seemed to out of place, too odd, too powerful, too united and too hell-bent on destroying mankind to be just a group of randomly powerful capes.

This world, for all it's power, could not match the Endbringer, could not kill them. But Samuel Hayden had helped build a much taller, more powerful civilization once already. He was fully commited to achieving that again. He still had the Crucible, after all. He could provide this world with infinite power, grant normal humans mass-producible augmentations that put them on par with capes. He had the power to change this world like he changed his, to elevate this humanity above the bestial threat of demons or Endbringers.

But there were more immediate concerns as well. Armsmaster seemed to have forgotten, or intentionally chosen not to expand on what the unwritten rules are, and the internet was only mildly helpful. All he gathered was that Endbringer truce and anonymity were inviolable. More worrying was the recent precedent of a demonic incursion on this world. He could not determine whether that was a one-time incident, or if the Crucible has opened a more stable dimensional bridge, and he currently had no equipment to investigate further.

This painted some easy short-term goals. First, he needed to ensure no cultists who could widen the portal with blood sacrifices were present in the city. Second, he needed infrastructure and technology to establish himself here. The docks contained no useful resources and building up from that would take him literal decades to reach the height of his capacity. He needed the PRT's resources and help, but they would certainly not welcome him with open arms, not without further scrutiny.

He decided that the best course of action was to prove himself in their eyes by helping them patrol the city, no matter how inefficient and outright moronic the whole idea of patrolling was, and support them in their fights. He did not expect them to inform him whenever one was in progress, but all he needed to eavesdrop on them is another unprotected Wi-Fi connection to the internet.

With his course of action crafted, he donned the giant, patchwork robe, put a sack over his head to completely cover it, and with nightfall he left the abandoned area of docks in his hunt of local demons cultists.

-

During his intel gathering binge at the PRT headquartes, Samuel had accessed the so called 'deep web' and looked wherever he could to find any trace of demon or Endbringer worshipper gatherings. He found one site that was in active use. They were foolish enough to provide him with the address of their meetings on a simple request in a simple online disguise of an interested Satanist.

When he arrived at the place, the black mass seemed to already have begun. He moved closer and started monitoring the insides of the building, a small abandoned warehouse it seemed, from behind the safety of the walls. His augmented hearing allowed him to hear everything that was happening inside, and his argent sensors were ready to detect any transdimensional events.

"Brothers, sisters! I've summoned you for a divine cause! We celebrate the name of the Unholy One in this night of Ritual! Feel the smell of this blood sacrifice! Let this goat's blood strengthen our covenant with our Father, make us Bedouins and nomads carried through the times, through pestilences and famine, to reach the ancient scrolls of wisdom! Our fallen archangel vexed was banished from the skies. We recite now from the holy text in this chapel of Ritual, invoking our master, pray for all to die!" a singular voice beckoned loud enough to probably be heard outside without any hearing aid Samuel had in his service.

"Our father who art in hell, unhallowed be thy name. Cursed be the sons and daughters of thine nemesis, whom are to blame. Thy kingdom come. Nema!" A choir of voices recited the satanic prayer, and then proceeded to chant "Antichristus! Antichristus!"

A single goat's soul should be a sacrifice much too weak to give the demons enough power to create a dimensional bridge. But, with the anomalies caused by the Crucible, he could not take any chances. He had to act, stop this mad cult once and for all.

Samuel sprung into movements and powered through the wall effortlessly, finding himself in what appeared to be a mockery of a baroque Christian house of worship. Instead of gold, this place was overflowing with stains made by streams of channeled blood. There were three rows of pews, upon which sat seven men and five women. Opposite to them stood a podium, upon which was a wide wooden table with a dead goat on it, as well as the bloodied preacher.

Upon the cyborg's entrance, a slew of equal parts terrified and shocked "What the fuck?!" shouts was screamed by the Satanists. It was time to start the play.

"My name is Samael, God's angel of wrath. I've come for your-" Before he could finish, he was interrupted by one of the cultists letting out a mortified shriek and sprinting for the main door.

Samuel was significantly quicker. Before the woman could make it even halfway through, he moved to block her path and drawed the Crucible, engaging it's blade with a shake of his hand and an impulse of argent energy from his reactor. Unfortunately in his blitzing advance wind resistance had torn his head sack off.

The sprinting Satanist stopped dead in her tracks once she saw the gigantic, hooked blade of brilliant red light appear, instantly melting through part of the roof. The metallic, inhuman face of the one blocking her advance did not encourage her to move either. This allowed Samuel to continue.

"You have sinned against the Almighty by giving worship to his sworn enemy. I was sent here to kill all allies of the fallen one. Repent or die."

The preacher was the first one to let out a shout of "I renounce Satan!"  
The rest soon followed.

-

A sudden increase of traffic in PRT communication channels gained Samuel's attention. Due to the limitations of the unsecured Wi-Fi he was leeching off, he could not analyze it all, but he has gained what information he was looking for – a bank robbery involving parahumans was underway.

The lumbering cyborg, disguised as a big pile of bags and thrash behind a dumpster, stood up, cast off him makeshift clothing and made his way to the soon-to-be combat zone. It was time to gain a few favors.


	4. 1-3

The thunderous sound of Samuel's metal feet impacting the asphalt and leaving shallow trenches in it filled the downtown streets. Bystanders were either scrambling to find cover, freezing dead or screaming in terror at the sight of the charging cyborg. Every time a vehicle approached him, he dodged to the side or jumped over it, never losing much momentum. On his way, he used public wireless networks to gather information about the threat that Wards were facing there, which according to the PRT communications and radio chatter was the team of Undersiders.

He arrived at the Brockton Bay Central Bank, according to the map he downloaded and PRT communications. It was a stone fixture six stories tall, with crenellations on the roof and balconies, stone gargoyles at the corners and iron grilles on the windows. The entryway had wide stone stairs like a courthouse, with statues of rearing horses with wild manes on either side. The name of the institution was etched into the stone above the doors.

Samuel would be otherwise impressed with the visual composition of the place, if not for huge swathes of darkness that blocked most his long-range. The space-time geometry immediately around the place was horribly distorted, twisting and turning. Comprehending the mess made his processors run hot. The wards stood in a line opposite to the bank, apparently supported by the independent hero Browbeat. Some of the wards were staring at him the moment he came into the view of the bank, obviously alerted by the sound of his footsteps.

He noted that the postures of both Clockblocker and Aegis were very different from their images and videos, and he realized that they fit each other's physique perfectly. Switched costumes to surprise their adversaries with Clockblocker's power. Clever.

Aegis, disguised as Clockblocker, shouted at him.

"Stop where you are, Samael! Why are you here?" His voice was young, but hard and commanding. Somewhat lower than he expected.

So they knew the name he used during his confrontation with the cultists. He didn't expect them to make it public, but it was always plausible that some of them could've posted online about the event, especially if they genuinely left their satanic ways behind.

"Do not be alarmed, I am here to assist you. " The cyborg said while slowing down to a walk and spreading his arms out in a gesture of friendly intentions.

"The PRT did not call in any support. How did you know we were here and that we needed help?" The boy's voice was hard, but it seemed that he went out of his way not to sound disrespectful despite his obvious suspicions. It would be easier to work with him than with Armsmaster.

"I'm a tinker, I have my ways." Doctor Hayden replied.

"You broke into our communications?! How are we-" Clockblocker couldn't finish his shout of outrage as he was startled by the sudden appearance of three giant creatures charging out of the darkness, with a female rider on top of the middle one. In their wake followed a swarm of flying insects.

The big beasts looked very suspiciously similar to demons, like a close relative of the species whimsically labeled by his staff as "pinkies". The same mostly exposed, skinless pink muscles covered impartially with keratinous and boney armor plates. The only real visual differences were seemingly random patches of fur, quadruped locomotion and longer, narrower heads. It was not impossible that Hellhound's power could summon or even control demons that were mistaken for mutant dogs. And whenever demons were summoned, they always looked for a way to bring in more of their kin with any means possible. He could not risk that.

Samuel sprung into motion, quickly accelerating to his top speed and tackling the middle demon. Just before the impact, he relayed most of the power used by his actuators and all the power used by his auxiliary sensors to his active armor plating. The electromagnetic fields generated just under his metal skin increased their strength, pulling the iron nanoparticles that created his outer shell closer together.

The demon fell to its side and slid a few meters on the grass. Its rider flew through the air back into the cloud of darkness. Before her pet monster could bring itself to stand up, Samuel was on top of it, ripping off its armor plates in an attempt to open himself a clear way to its heart. He stabbed his right palm it the demon's chest, but before he could drive it any deeper the beast jerked violently and threw him off. Samuel regained his footing through a graceful roll, and the demon finally managed to get up.

They clashed again, Samuel standing steadfast against the monster's strength. After a moment of them trying their physical strengths against each other, Samuel ended the impasse when he managed to grab one of the beasts protruding plates of bone and tear it off. Then he stopped putting any resistance with the right side of his body and stabbed the chunk of bone into the monster's belly while stepping to his left. The beast's forward movement only widened the wound. Samuel left the hold of his makeshift dagger and spun into a kick that hit its base and completely engorged it in the demon's flesh.

The beast smartly utilized the momentum given to it by the kick and sharply turned. It charged immediately, and so did Samuel. Before they could collide, he jumped over the beast and grabbed another one of its protruding bone plates. Their momentums cancelled each other out despite the bone almost snapping, and Samuel utilized that to land on top of the demon. It put its apparently prehensile tail around the cyborg's leg, but that changed nothing. His hands still reached the monster's head and twisted it violently. A loud crack emanated from the monster's neck and it's head fell limply. The beast itself was still moving, but it seemed confused and blind. It was admittedly surprising that it could function without its head at all, but Samuel had seen demons with even more bizarre anatomies. At least it seemed blind and deaf now.

Doctor Hayden jumped off the stumbling beast and engaged his sensor suite to regain his wide combat awareness. The two other dogs were frozen in time by Clockblocker's power, but the swarm of insects was still at large. He immediately analyzed their patterns of movement and came to the conclusion that they were being consciously controlled and directed, flying in formations, picking targets in groups, and avoiding him. Perhaps that was the power of the mysterious Tattletale.

The swarm of insects was inconveniencing most of the child soldiers, barring Browbeat whose telekinetic shield protected him. It effectively locked them in place, frantically trying to fend off the insects, while the only immune hero did not dare venture into Grue's darkness. The attackers might be venomous, but he could do nothing to stop such an intangible enemy right now.

He instead turned to face the unnervingly good at blocking all radiation cloud and engaged the one sensor he usually kept offline due to power concerns. The argent detector.

His armor became soft and his actuators weak, but instantly packets of argent energy that constituted human souls appeared in his spatial awareness, even within the cloud. He saw all the hostages within the bank, as well as a few humans that stood a distance from them, near the entrance. There was also a person sitting near a window that was not covered completely by the darkness. Overall, there were five people that did not seem to be hostages, plus one on the rooftop, who could either be a hero or some ally to the Undersiders.

He turned his head in the direction of the window and focused his visual sensors. Behind the glass was a face covered by a mask made in the image of an insectoid head. It seemed that it wasn't He knew how Tattletale looked from images on the internet, and it seemed that it wasn't her behind the arthropod swarm after all.

The person behind the window immediately scrambled away from it, moving to a different one. For a moment, the insects in the air lost their coordination and started moving in random directions. Samuel used the villain's momentary lack of a spotter and moved into the darkness, navigating successfully through the confusing geometry of space surrounding the bank. Immediately, one of the souls moved around, as if nervous, and he heard an almost imperceptibly silent whisper.

"Shit, the metal dude's in. Regent, trip him".

He didn't trip. No matter who this Regent was or what his power did exactly, Samuel remained stalwartly on his path, venturing closer to the bright souls of the villains through the dark.

A projectile ricocheted off of his armor, failing to penetrate even his severely weakened primary layer. Then another four followed, achieving an equally unimpressive result.

His adversaries were constantly withdrawing further into the bank, closer to the hostages. He could not allow them to mix in with them, so he charged forward. He quickly reached the first person and swatted them away with his arm, sending them flying into a wall. Perhaps he used a bit too much force. While he was punching another villain, he noticed a faint soul, almost animal-like in intensity, approaching him at high speeds. Instead of finishing off the third person, he braced himself, putting up his arms in a block.

Like in his fight with the demon before, he transferred power to his armor moments before contact was made. Something very big slammed into him and sent him straight into a wall, partially collapsing it. Samuel tried regaining his footing, but he tripped on the rubble. The thing landed on top of him and started mauling his body with its limbs, all the while trying to bite him without much success.

It must've been the demon the neck of which he snapped. He didn't quite expect an ability to regenerate such grievous damage from it. What he expected even less was its meek soul. All demons had souls far surpassing those of humans in terms of the amount of argent energy stored in them. He was mistaken, so it seemed. Those monsters must've been dogs after all. Normally, that would make him reconsider using violence against them, but being brutally mauled and having his nanoparticle armor slowly stripped away certainly was not a normal situation.

He did not draw the Crucible outside to avoid revealing it to the PRT, but within this dark cloud that wasn't a concern. So he took it from the compartment in his back.

The brilliant ruby blade dispelled the darkness around it, and with a swing of Samuel's wrist it cut off the monsters head cleanly and with almost no resistance. It stopped attacking him, which was enough.

Doctor Hayden pulled himself out from underneath the squirming spasmodically beast and stood on his feet again, engaging the argent sensor.

He noticed that three of the villains have moved outside, and the weak signatures of the two remaining dogs were in motion as well. He considered retreating to help them, but dismissed that thought. The two people remaining in the bank were there for a reason, most likely vulnerability in direct combat. He decided to reach them.

It wasn't long before he moved out of the dark fog and switched off his argent sensor. He could see the two villains quite clearly now. The thin woman wearing the insectoid mask was huddled next to a window, while her compatriot whom he recognized as Tattletale, clad in a skintight bodysuit and hiding her face behind a domino mask, sat on a chair nearby. Both women immediately turned their heads towards him, and Tattletale opened her eyes incredibly wide.

Samuel walked slowly towards them in what the thought was an intimidating manner, his Crucible still engaged and held at a low angle towards the ground, almost touching it with the tip of the blade.

"You've lost this fight. Your friends are losing against the Wards, and I have you defenseless against me. Surrender now." He said pointing the tip of his energy blade at the women. It seemed to have achieved his goal partially – the two women certainly looked terrified, the insect girl staying very still and Tattletale shivering with a look of pain on her face, but they did nothing to indicate they are submitting.

"He isn't human. He is not from this world. He chose his name after an angel of wrath. It's a fucking alien. He is responsible for thousands of deaths. Fuck, I shouldn't have said all that, he's angry now. I cannot see what he'll do next. Oh shit. I think we will die, bug. I shouldn't have let my power talk make me talk out loud. I'm sorry." Tattletale murmured in a frantic manner, looking like she was in a weird equilibrium between complete tranquility and an outright panic attack. She held her head in her hands. The hostages were now scrambling upstairs or into the back halls, trying to get away.

Samuel felt that if he had any blood left in his body, it would've completely frozen right in that moment.

"How do you know that? Tell me, and we might come to a compromise that will satisfy both parties. Obviously, I wouldn't want you to tell anyone about my-"He paused for a moment. "true nature, and you don't want to be imprisoned. We both have means to significantly harm each other, and it's a stalemate that nobody enjoys."

"I- I know things about stuff. That's kinda my spiel" Tattletale replied, stuttering. She must've really believed that Samuel would take her life for knowing too much, and she did have an uncanny ability to deduce things from nothing. That instantly became one of the most useful powers he was aware of existing, even if it already had made an error. He would not have killed her, merely threatened to kill her in prison if she talked, or kidnapped her if that failed.

"That is a very dangerous power, and very powerful. The PRT will have you jailed if they get their hands on you, but I am not a harsh judge. I think you deserve a second chance."

"We will do anything!" Tattletale spat out quickly and loudly, making her companion startle and scream.

"What?" Was the 'bug's' only stunned word. Before she could continue with her expressing of her surprise and doubts, Samuel was already speaking.

"You will work with me. You keep your lives, I keep my privacy, and in the end we all help each other achieve our goals." As Samuel said that, he disengaged the energy blade and spread his arms open, in a gesture he was using very frequently as of recently.

"But you're a hero, right?" The bug girl spoke in a trembling voice, but not nearly as disturbed as the other villainess'.

"Yes, you can call me that. I work for the good and betterment of humankind. I have no other agendas. And I could use your help."

"We agree. Just get us out of here, my head will explode. I need painkillers." Tattletale, still shaking, grabbed her friend's shoulder and said in a meek voice."

"I'm grateful for your cooperation. Follow me." He turned to his right and gestured for them to go after him.

Samuel maneuvered through the now empty bank, using his argent sensor to avoid ever letting his two new recruits into anybody's sight. Eventually, they arrived at some sort of maintenance entrance.

"When I tell you to go, it means that the path is clear. You will immediately move to the nearest and best hiding spot, I believe Tattletale can find it. I have a way to track you, and I'll contact you once this conflict is over." Samuel had their unique patterns of souls in his memory banks, so the last part would not be particularly hard.

Tattletale only shrieked in pain at his words and started massaging her temples. Apparently, trying to use her powers on Samuel gave her what he believed was known as 'thinker headaches', and a particularly severe case of it. He noted that it could be useful to keep her in line. He needed to keep his new subordinates on a shorter leash, to avoid another Olivia debacle.

Tattletale stumbled her way out of the building, supported by the bug girl whose name he's forgotten to ask about. He'll do that soon enough.

The cyborg turned back into the fray. The villains were slowly moving the battlefield into the flats nearby, most likely to leverage the urban environment to their powers. The heroes were stalemated despite receiving support of newly arrived Glory Girl, another local hero. Every time the young woman called by many the "Alexandria Jr." tried to enter the cloud of darkness, three dogs pounced on her from inside and repelled her advance. The fact that the decapitated one regenerated its head did not surprise the doctor anymore, despite it being the greatest feat of regeneration it displayed so far.

Kid Win, who was floating near the entrance to the bank with a big, levitating cannon, firing impressive looking bolts of energy from time to time, whenever an opportunity appeared. He noticed Samuel leave the building, and shouted to him over the noise of the battle.

"You got the ones inside?"

"I did not. They run away. I could not pursue due to the hostages in my way."

"Shit, can you at least do somewhat to help with those guys?" He pointed one hand at the cloud of darkness slowly inching its way downtown.

"I do believe so." Samuel replied.

He approached the fight without any further disturbances. Aegis and Glory Girl were still trying to enter the cloud, but the dogs kept successfully barring them entrance. Kid Win's barrages seemed to all miss. Gallant was uselessly throwing his energy balls. Browbeat disappeared somewhere, and he'd seen Vista lie unconscious nearby.

He decided to end this fight as quickly as possible, while instilling the most awe in the Wards to later leverage. He stepped to the edge of the cloud and waited for one of the weak dog souls to come near him. When one did, he kicked it before it could attack him. His argent sensor saw the dog recoil back, and he entered the darkness.

While inside he saw that the other two beasts were being wrestled by Aegis and Glory Girl. They seemed to have changed their tactic from trying to breach the defenses to keeping them busy, allowing him to fight off the last dog like he's done before. They were very good soldiers, Samuel had to admit that despite his distaste for the wards organization.

The dog recovered quickly and blindly charged at Samuel again, but he was already taking the Crucible out of its compartment. With a diagonal cut that dispersed the darkness in its path, the dog's head and chest were split in half.

Samuel turned to the trio of villains. Only one of them moved in reaction to that. If he had any ability to see him, he must have been Grue. The cyborg approached him and attempted to grab the man with both his hands approaching horizontally at a wide angle, but he only grasped empty air, and the soul moved behind him, then started running away.

He let him go for that moment, and turned his attention to the remaining two villains. They, more blind than he was in the cloud, could not defend themselves too well, and he successfully grabbed both of them.

Doctor Hayden emerged from the shadows, carrying Hellhound and who was most likely Regent by their necks. The latter was mostly still, but the former was furiously writhing around, shouting unintelligibly.

He noticed that Aegis and Glory Girl were still struggling with the two dogs, and decided to end it. He threw both villains at a nearby wall to incapacitate them and rushed in the direction of the fight.

Aegis had returned to his previous tactics. Instead of wrestling with the dog, he was flying up and then diving to strike. Eventually, the dog's tail wrapped around him well enough to ground him, and it managed to catch his leg in its jaws. It seemed that it was slowly but surely being severed by the pressure of the terrible mouth, but Samuel was there before that could happen. He stabbed his hands at the distracted creature's back and closed his palms, grabbing a section of its spine. Then he pulled it out, a spray of blood emerging from the wound. The beast roared in agony and lost control of its hind legs. Samuel used its immobility to give himself leverage by putting his foot on the beast's hip, and he tore one of its legs off. He then proceeded to smash the beast with it until it stopped moving, it's entire back and sides a bloody pulp. He felt uncomfortable using Slayer's fighting techniques, but he couldn't say they were ineffective.

All heroes present stared at him in wide eyed shock, including Glory Girl, whose opponent had run away to tend to and guard his incapacitated master.

"Did you just murder that dog?" Aegis asked in disbelief.

"I assure you, it will regenerate. I've already cut off its head inside the bank, and it did recover fully from that."

"What the fuck, man?" Clockblocker shouted, and Samuel graciously ignored his unsophisticated way of expressing himself.

The rest remained silent, except for Aegis, who turned to the cloud of darkness.

"Grue! Come out and surrender! We have all your allies apprehended!" The young hero shouted, but Grue didn't comply. Instead, he spread out his darkness in the direction of the nearest residential building.

Samuel simultaneously approved of the man's tenacity and held his judgement in disregard. It was obvious for both of them that he couldn't hide from him. What could he possibly achieve by prolonging this? If he had a wildcard to play, now was a very late time for it.

He followed the only soul within the darkness. It entered the building and the villain seemed to have quickly hunkered down on the floor. Or under some piece of furniture, Samuel couldn't tell.

Navigating the corridors of the building only with touch to go by was not an easy, especially since the ceiling was much too low for him to move in any fashion other than crawl.

Samuel could've just smashed through the structurally weak walls and go straight for his opponent, but he could not see which carried the weight of the building. He also didn't want to cause any unnecessary property damage. Unfortunately, those limitations allowed Grue to start moving again and scale what must've been stairs to the next floor. Stairs which were too small to let him through.

Samuel could only watch in disappointment as the villain moved to the roof of the building, jumped to an adjacent one and disappeared from the current range of his sensor. He could extend it massively by diverting all power to it, but there was currently no point. He could not give pursuit on rooftops as they would collapse under his considerable weight, and he already had the man's unique soul patterns in his memory. He could track him anywhere in the city if need be.

So he slowly crawled his way back, meeting the wards outside. They all gave him looks of disapproval, disgust and shock. He noticed that instead of regenerating, the dog he beat was rotting at an astonishing pace, looking and smelling like a mutilated corpse. The other beast was had now lost massive amounts of mass, shedding most of its bone and flesh to the ground nearby. Curiously, its body seemed to be made up of distinct and redundant layers. It paced nervously around his tied up master.

"The dog is dead." Aegis accused him, but he was mistaken. Samuel's argent sensor indicated that the dog's soul was not only undispersed, but concise and changing – like that of a living being.

"My sensor equipment indicates otherwise. I must have overcome its regenerative abilities somehow, but it still lives." He attempted to dispel their doubts, but it failed. All he received in response were glares and silence that continued until the arrival of PRT.

-

The Protectorate heroes arrived in full force, which struck Samuel as very foolish. Any villain that wanted to make a move now in another part of the city could do so in that moment, undisturbed.

While the PRT trucks were unloading troops and taking the Wards onboard, Armsmaster approached Doctor Hayden.

"You have Protectorate's thanks for helping end this fight. You can go now."

That was not a reaction Samuel exactly expected.

"You do not seem very grateful. Without me, the fight would still be going." Samuel's voice took on a displeased tone, as much as his voice synthesizer could allow that.

"And you managed to traumatize our Wards with your brutality. They cannot be allowed near people like you or they'll forget the boundaries between heroes and villains. To me, you don't seem like a hero, but a dangerous vigilante. You've abused our IT systems twice now and twice you've ripped animals to absolute shreds. Go away before I find a reason to arrest you again."

Samuel did not even object to demons being called mere animals. Instead, he turned away and left.

He failed to accrue any favors or receive any tools to work with. But he still had his contingency plan.

-

Tattletale and insect girl were in an unremarkable van, parked in one of the docks' dark alleyways, behind a dumpster. They had decided to leave Downtown and somehow got here without gathering any attention. Tattletale, whom he assumed was the woman behind this move, was already proving to be of sharp wit and an acute mind. Unfortunately, that reminded him of young Olivia.

The van must have been stolen. He didn't exactly approve, but it might have been necessary to allow him to gather enough assets to start his great work.

He approached the vehicle and knocked on the back doors. They immediately opened, revealing both women still in their costumes, standing inside the cargo compartment.

"My name is Doctor Samuel Hayden. I hope our cooperation will benefit us all."


	5. 1-4

Tattletale leapt out of the van with energy and vigor appropriate for someone confident, or keeping up a confident appearance. The other woman, whose name he still did not know, remained inside, leaning against one of the sides with her shoulders hunched, as if she were very tired.

"Hi, I'm Lisa. Before you ask, no, nobody was following us, even though we had to make a detour for the bug girl here." She pointed her thumb at the other woman without turning her head.

"Um, Tattle- Lisa, are you sure about using our real names?" The insect themed woman asked with a tone and voice of a scared, young girl. Samuel felt uneasy about requiring her services if she was too young, but that was necessary. He would resort to keeping her away from the front lines; her power seemed very well suited for that.

"The way I see it, we kinda have no other choice but to do what the big metal man says. If my power didn't outright lie to me for some random and inexplicable reason, then he couldn't even do anything with our real names."

"I'm still not sure about that. I mean-"

"If it is your wish to work under an alias," Samuel interjected her "I will respect that, if only by virtue of how the matters of identity are handled in this world. But you will have to choose a name that we can address you by, one that is more presentable and sophisticated than 'bug girl'."

The woman he addressed hunched even further and wrapped her arms around herself in a very unconfident gesture.

"Just… Just call me bug for now. I'll come up with a name soon, I promise." Her voice was becoming even more uncertain, very carefully purged of anything that might be seen as an offensive or aggressive tone. She was scared of him. He supposed that both of them were; this one was simply not as good at controlling herself.

"Tattletale. Is your power no longer causing you pain in my presence?"

"Nah, I turned it off. It just went haywire when I saw you for the first time, activated on its own for whatever reason."

"Very well. Tattletale, 'Bug', I welcome you to my entourage. I will require you to advise me on matters concerning parahuman related activities and help me create a foundation for my future organization." He started proclaiming his will, but before he could continue Tattletale spoke up, wide eyed.

"You're not even a parahuman, are you? You're a genuine alien." Her voice exclaimed a mixture of awe, surprise and satisfaction with oneself, as if she didn't believe what her powers had told her before.

"Neither, at least not as you understand those terms. I am a human, but I do not come from this world. This is one of the reasons I need your help."

"You seem awfully motivated for someone who's lost in an alien world. You already know what you want to achieve, despite being in this world for what, a few days at most?"

"This world is in a state of accelerated decay. Between Endbringers and the parahumans-normals disparity, it is condemned to death and suffering. I can find solutions to these problems. Slay the monsters and ascend the humans that lack any powers to a level where equality in the face of law and nature can be restored."

"What do you mean by saying 'ascend'? Turn them all into robots like you? " Bug asked, with equal parts doubt and curiosity.

"I am a cyborg. And the answer is more complicated than you seem to anticipate. I will not impose anything on humanity, merely offer them infinite energy, advanced technology and the assistance of capable artificial intelligences. I hope that within decades, I can transform the civilization into one with considerably less unnecessary violence and more cooperation."

"See Bug? I told you he's not a villain." Tattletale poked Bug in another display of false confidence.

"I would not call myself hero either, the absurdity of using such terms aside. I am a scientist. My only goal is driving the progress of mankind forward." Samuel spoke.

"So, you have a place somewhere, or are we going to sleep here under the moonlit sky and sing songs by the campfire?" Tattletale folded her arms. Samuel realized idly that appearances are very important to her.

"I do. I suppose this vehicle cannot support the weight of my body, so I'll direct you to coordinates on the city's map. You'll meet me there, and we'll discuss all the remaining matters then."

"Peachy."

-

When he arrived at the location of his rudimentary base, his two newly acquired subordinates were already waiting in their van for him, skillfully hidden from sight behind the rubble of a collapsed wall.

The entrance to his temporary base of operations was close nearby. He dug into the basement of the very building behind the ruins of which the van was currently stationed, and all that was needed to open the tunnel was lifting a two ton wall segment – enough to keep ordinary scavengers away.

Tattletale and Bug emerged from their hiding spot and approached Samuel, who was in the process of opening the path. His argent sensor was assuring him that outside of the two women and himself, there was nobody in the vicinity who could witness the location of his base.

"I figured you'd go for an underground hideout in an abandoned part of the city. It probably looks like a spaceship inside. Or maybe it is a spaceship." Tattletale mused.

"No, nothing of that sort. I have no equipment inside, sadly. I've managed to unearth the basement of this building, move out the rubble that was inside and install some rudimentary structural supports to avoid the collapse of the roof. I've also repaired the parts that were already collapsed."

"Wow, that stinks. Do you at least have any tools to work something out?" Tattletale inquired further with genuine-sounding disappointment.

"My body can slowly cut materials by vibrating iron nanoparticles that constitute the outer layer of my armor in a motion akin to a working chainsaw, as well as weld by generating strong electromagnetic impulses."

They all moved inside. Neither woman seemed impressed with the state of the place. It was surprisingly big and spacious, enough to let Samuel stand fully straight, but there was still a lot of small rubble cluttering the floor, patches of dirt around the spots where to roof used to be collapsed. The only source of lighting was a flashlight dangling from one of the concrete structural supports. He found it lying in the ruins above, thankfully with power to spare. A looter must've lost it.

"Um, we don't have to sleep here, right?" Bug asked shyly.

"I understand that this place is not the most comfortable or impressive, but I believe that with your help I'll be able to provide basic commodities in a short span of time."

"No, that's not what I mean. I, um, have a home to come back to. My dad will worry if I don't return soon."

Samuel didn't even consider that his new subordinates could have homes and families to come back to. His employees almost always lived on the site of his facilities, often bringing their families with them. But in this world of secret identities, it's certainly not a possibility. That unfortunately created a dangerous vulnerability in his operations, as his subordinates could easily be intercepted and assassinated. It also created a trail to his base of operations that could be followed with trivial ease. He was almost inclined to refuse Bug's request, but that would make her less inclined to work with him, perhaps make her prone to betray him. Like Olivia did.

"I will not stop you, but we will need to create a means of communication between us before you go. I should be able to utilize and abuse the UMTS infrastructure to connect with your mobile phone, if you provide me with your phone number."

She did as he instructed. Samuel knew enough of the standards and mechanisms of local communication methods to utilize his radio transceiver as a mobile relay and receiver, allowing him to tap into the system. He configured the algorithms necessary for that within two seconds, and turned to look at Tattletale.

"Do you need to return home as well, Tattletale?" He asked, resigned to hear a confirmatory answer.

"Nah. I have some stuff in our old crib, but Grue's probably still there. I can stay here, if you get me a bed boss." Tattletale chirped. Samuel was under the impression that she was doing everything she could to make an impression of loyalty and acceptance of her new role, to placate him. He had to admit, that was a wise decision on her part.

"I will do that, but you will need to guide me to resources I could work with."

"Oh, sure thing boss." Tattletale chirped "You'll find a lot of wood and metal in the boat graveyard. We could probably take some matrasses from Merchants, but I can just buy then on the Market if you're not ok with stealing from druggies. There might be some tools and a gas generator on the Market too. You don't actually have any money, do you boss?"

"No." He answered curtly.

"Well, I do have some money left over from my previous jobs, so there'll be no problem there." Samuel noticed a slight change in her facial expression and tone of voice, one that indicated regret over having to spend her own resources for his cause. It was professionally masked, but it was not enough to fool him. He still appreciated that she was committed enough to propose that, even if it stemmed mostly from fear of her dying at his hands if she disappointed him. That was not a completely unwarranted worry from her perspective, even if he would do no such thing. For the time being, he was as forced to work with them as they were to work with him.

After the initial organizational matters were done with, Tattletale drove Bug home, passing though roads with little traffic to allow him to stalk them in the shadows, ready to intervene if the heroes or their prior employer, if there was one, had come to finish their job. It was a very real possibility, as Armsmaster could conceivable be in possession of sensor equipment that could rival or even surpass his own. Bug protested against this precaution, saying that she didn't want Samuel knowing where she lived, but he gently reminded her that he could track her anywhere within the city, and she eventually agreed.

Once Bug was safely delivered, Tattletale started moving towards the Market, as they planned. It was already past midnight, and it was exceedingly unlikely that anybody would still be providing commercial services in that area. They decided that she would break into one of the storage areas nearby and simply steal supplies, loading her van full of them. It was a lawless and otherwise condemnable deed, but acquiring those resources as quickly as possible would allow him to create an industrial base that would eventually repay whomever he stole from with a wealth of technological advancements in mass production of goods, including much better and cheaper version of the materiel he was responsible for being stolen.

He set out to the ship graveyard. In the night, there would be no one there but sleeping homeless people, and he could work silently.

The argent sensor allowed him to find a spot that was completely vacant, and he immediately started his work. He made the iron nanoparticles on his hand move slowly but with night unstoppable force in a coordinated way around it, forming a silent cutter that easily, if not particularly quickly, sliced off metal plates and supports that created the hulls of ships nearby.

An hour had passed, and a veritable stockpile of perfectly rectangular steel plates and cleanly cut metal beams now lied between two ships that now lacked the lower sides of their hulls. If he had made no mistake weighing it, it was four tons of material that was of a good enough grade to work with. He was satisfied with that, for now. It wasn't enough to create anything too durable or sophisticated, but it would allow him to produce enough equipment to sell for profit that should allow him the acquisition of appropriate amounts of tungsten and iridium. He would eventually extract all the carbon from the steel he now possessed to produce graphene and nanotubes, and utilize the left over iron to replenish his primary armor. Yes, he could now clearly see the path he needed to take.

There was only one last supply problem left. He needed precision tools that he could not craft himself, and without them building technology for sale was not a reasonable possibility. Tattletale suggested attacking the gang known as Merchants, which operated dangerously close to their base and was a despicable provider of powerful, 'recreational' poisons and neurotoxins. They were a scourge that was damaging the intellectual potential of humanity by withering the mental capacity of everyone they allowed to become addicted. He agreed to her suggestion, but he needed to know more about their capabilities and methods of operation before he made his move.

Half an hour of work later, Tattletale arrived in her van. She had already stored the equipment she had stolen in their base to make room for their haul of raw resources, and the first thing she did after meeting Samuel was complaining about the amount of physical work she had to do and how negative it was for her health. It worried Samuel that he did not take her endurance into the equation. He needed to remember that many mundane limitations ailed parahumans.

They had to make the haul between the abandoned part of docks and the boat graveyard a few times to transport all the material. The van's suspensions suffered from being overused, and would need to be repaired, unless he would manage to make it obsolete before he could spare it any attention.

The previously spacious basement was now very cramped with tons of steel plates and boxes filled with tools. There was also a crate of food and what looked like a bag of clothes. Again, he was reminded of how often he forgot about human limitations. If only mankind was ready to accept the level of transhumanism that he embraced – but alas, even his own humankind did not. He cleared a small part of the room and quickly constructed a steel bed frame, and created a small shack of steel plates around it on the woman's request.

Before he let her sleep, he asked her a few crucial questions. First he demanded to know whether or not the Undersiders were in anybody's employ, and who that was. Tattletale told him of Coil, a mysterious and indirect villain that worked from the shadows. Unfortunately, she knew very little of whom he was, what his goals were or where he resided. She did warn him that Coil will inevitably investigate the disappearance of her and Bug.

She looked oddly remorseful when advising Samuel to seek out Coil and commit a preemptive strike to, as she put it, 'behead the snake'. He inquired her about that, and she told him about Grue and his dependence on Coil's resources and funds to help his close family. She urged him to try to do something with that situation, and he agreed. Samuel decided that a small part of the funds he will earn by supplying his technology to the world will be spared for Tattletale's former teammate and friend. It initially seemed like it would be a pointless endeavor, but he reminded himself that he never again wanted another mutiny within his advisoral staff. Helping their friends and keeping them satisfied should lessen the chances of that happening.

Samuel then asked Tattletale to tell him more about the Merchants. She explained to him in a satisfying amount of detail how they operated and what capes they possessed. Mush – capable of telekinetically attracting loose materials to create an armored body; Skidmark – capable of creating weak deflector fields; and Squealer – the most interesting one, a tinker from whom he would be taking precision tools. Overall, it seemed that dispatching them would be a rather simple task. Mush often operated alone, away from the other two capes, and thus he would be the first target. Without support, he would stand no chance against Samuel. Skidmark and Squealer seldom parted, but they would be vulnerable once the latter entered her workshop. Inside the building, they will be declined any ability to use her vehicles, and it would come down to a fight between him and Skidmark, in which the latter was doomed to fail. His fields were only effective when stacked in great number, and he would not allow him enough time to set that up.

After forming their plans for the coming day, Samuel finally let Tattletale sleep in her provisory shack, while he indulged himself in what known in this world as 'tinkering'.

After seven hours of work, a simple power system spanned the basement. It was capable of wirelessly receiving energy from his argent reactor and transferring it to all electronic and electric devices in their base, which now included multiple sources of lighting, a simple industrial cooler that could, as Tattletale pointed to him, also serve as a fridge for her, a magnetically locked trapdoor leading and a steel ladder for the entrance, and the beginnings of a bigger power plant, one that would power the site while he was away. To finish it, he would need to produce highly sophisticated components that he had no capacity to produce right now. Bringing to life his plan to eliminate the Merchants and claim their resources was crucial.

-

After Tattletale woke up, he immediately had her contact Bug. From what he had gathered, she seemed reluctant to come, but eventually agreed.

She arrived already in costume, in contrast to Tattletale who changed into civilian clothing in her shack. Samuel deduced that she was annoyed, maybe even angry, from her body language, which contrasted with how she behaved the previous day. After descending the ladder to the basement, she faced him with her hands folded.

"You won't be calling me here every morning, right? I have school and a family that will be worried if I don't go." She spat at him in an accusatory tone, then added after a short moment of thought "And suspicious too."

"It is unlikely I will require your services that often."

"Okay then. What do you need me to do?" She drawled skepticaly before he had a chance to continue explaining the very thing she asked about, and he felt slightly annoyed.

"We'll be moving against the Merchants today. I assume that your power allows you to perceive some senses of your insects?" The way she controlled them without a line of sight before indicated that he was correct in his presumption.

"Yes. I can sense what they touch and use their senses of coordination. But why the Merchants?"

"They have a tinker whose tools I'd like to… appropriate." Again, the young woman annoyed him by stopping him from speaking. He would arrive at that point eventually; there was no need to hurry him.

"So, we'll be stealing from druggies. Great." Bug said unhappily.

"We'll be stealing from a tinker. The PRT was not very fond of me and they refused to provide any help, and I need precision tools before I can start my industry. Past that point, there will be no further need for stealing." He gently explained to her, ignoring his own annoyance. After a silent second, he added, tilting his head to compensate for a lack of facial expression on his face "I distinctly remember you attempting to raid a bank. Why do you have an aversion to stealing now?"

Immediately after, the straight and confident posture of Bug disappeared, replaced by her more usual hunched shoulders and arms wrapped around her. Tattletale, who was silently watching the conversation, tensed.

"I, um, I thought you were a hero. That's all." She spoke in a suddenly shy voice, all the confidence gone. Tattletale visibly, if subtly, relaxed.

"I dislike the usage of terms such as 'hero' or 'villain'. I do not judge myself in any way. I simply do what I can to support humanity, and for that purpose I will need tools. Do you still have any objections?"

Instead of immediately answering him, Bug turned to Tattletale.

"Tattle, we still have money from Coil. Can't we just use it to buy Samael his tools?"

"Sorry, but tinker tools are a bit more expensive than that. Besides, Coil could track that to us." Tattletale replied.

"I'd prefer if you called me Samuel in private. Now, if you would kindly stop interrupting me, I will explain your roles in the plan." Samuel spoke, gesturing to compensate for his lack of a face "Bug. You will perform a sweep of their territory. Stay out of sight and use small amounts of insects to look for any person wearing a costume. You will follow them and inform me on every move and action they make. This will allow me to adjust my sensors to track them. Once we have tagged all Merchant capes, we will wait for the night. I will then personally hunt them down. Bug will follow me in constant concealment. Once I assault Squealer's workshop, she'll use her insects to drive out all civilians. Tattletale will remain in her van, a city block away. She will be receiving a video and audio feed of the situation to provide tactical advice."

After he stopped talking, both his subordinates remained motionless except for exchanging looks the meaning of which he could not decipher.

"I expect you to begin your work immediately, Bug. Unless you specifically request for a different course of action."

Another moment of silence arrived before Bug eventually spoke.

"We won't be killing anybody. Right?"

"I will attempt to avoid that. We'll leave the Merchants to their own devices after our attack."

"Can't we take them to the PRT?" She inquired further.

"It would be a logistical problem. We possess only a single vehicle which will be used for the transportation of tools."

"And the PRT would have more reason to get us in jail than them. We tried to rob a bank recently, and boss could be accused of an unwarranted assault and breaking the unwritten rules." Tattletale added, to which Samuel nodded with approval.

"Now, Bug, I expect you to go." Samuel commanded in a very deliberately intimidating tone.

"Boss, can I go with her? Merchant territory is dangerous, and I can spot threats early." Tattletale requested immediately after.

"Very well. Do so." Samuel granted it to her.

Following Tattletale's advice, Skitter changed into some of the appropriated clothes she had hauled here in a crate, and both women left his base, leaving him to begin the work on a weapon that would hopefully allow him to face the uncertain threat posed by Coil.

-

Samuel and his subordinates were all already assembled. The cyborg crouched in a sprinter's position within a building that served as a drug stash, next to an unconscious guard covered in insect bites. Hidden in the dark, his night vision allowed him a perfect observation of the abandoned factory that served as the Merchant's main barracks and Squealer's workshop.

Unfortunately, Mush was unaccounted for. The man either did not wear his costume today, if he even used one, or was not present within the territory. While Samuel hoped for the latter, he was aware that he was likely to find himself in a fight with both Skidmark and Mush.

He waited for a moment when Squealer and Skidmark would be in separate rooms. When it arrived, he checked if there were no bystanders that could raise alarm while he approached the outer side of a wall leading to the room Skidmark resided in. Unfortunately, that was not the case. A lot of people were constantly entering and leaving the Merchant headquarters, making his original plan impossible.

He resorted to launching himself into a sprint, breaking straight through the wall of the building he was hiding in. He crossed the street that parted the buildings within a second, and the first alarmed screams only started when he was already impacting the second wall with his shoulder.

He pushed through it without losing much momentum and steered his lightning advance towards the leader of Merchants. In his wake followed a veritable swarm of flying insects.

Skidmarks reaction was very fast. Almost immediately, a force field appeared under Samuel's legs, causing him to trip. That obviously involuntary defensive reaction was ill suited to the situation, as the considerable mass of the cyborg's body continued on its path. Samuel stabbed his hands into the floor. The rest of his body traveled some distance farther, violently hitting Skidmark, but it was soon mostly stopped by his hands. The concrete between them cracked and broke off, but that was enough.

The villain was already getting up, but was too confused to create any more fields or even raise his head to look at Samuel. He walked up to him and clasped his head with his palm. A surge of power to the electromagnets of his armor created an impulse that interfered with the transmission of signals in the villain's brain, causing his consciousness to disperse into a comatose state.

Samuel took his hand back and surveyed the rest of the room. Currently, all but one Merchants were being relentlessly assaulted by insects, most of them fleeing. The one exception was protected by a growing cloud of debris from the broken wall. Mush.

The cyborg's nanoparticle armor started vibrating violently and losing coherence. He realized that Mush must've been capable of telekinetically attracting all small, loose objects in his vicinity, and that he was not protected from that.

He spared a small fraction of a moment to wonder how telekinesis worked and how it might be replicable if he was to get a chance at an autopsy of an appropriate parahuman. Like Mush.

The room was big enough that Squealer could conceivably bring a combat vehicle in here, and by now she must've been alarmed. He needed to end the fight quickly, and closing the distance was not an option. Not when the enemy could possibly strip him of his armor.

-

"Tattletale. Tell me how to disable Mush from a distance." Doctor's robotic voice boomed from her earphones. The volume was a bit too high.

"Sure thing boss. Try to throw something too big for his power at him. It'll create an opening for Bug to send her creepy crawlies."

-

"Bug. I want you keep your insects close to Mush. Once I give a signal, send them in and look for an opening in his armor."

-

Having sent the messages to his subordinate's phones, he noticed that Mush's armor was now starting to resemble a humanoid body. It was still only barely able to move, and Samuel capitalized on that.

A crate full of unspecified materiel flew towards the cape, shattering on the concrete debris surrounding him and joining his cloud. A metal support beam that previously stood in the middle of the room followed next. It pushed the floating debris out of its way and impacted the man inside. Bug's help was not needed, as the cloud of debris fell apart to reveal the man impaled.

"Holy shit." Tattletale exclaimed loudly on their communication's channel.

"Maybe stop killing people, boss?" She followed more quietly after a second. Bug remained silent.

She was right. That death were completely unnecessary and unwarranted. It pained him that they happened. Intentional or not, humanity was one soul lesser now.

Another wall shook and collapsed. Through the cloud of debris, what looked like a jury-rigged main battle tank built from pieces of rusty scrap metal rolled into the room, pointing it's barrel at Samuel.

An uncostumed woman was peeking through – most likely Squealer. She took a single look at Skidmark's unconscious body and let out a cry of anguish.

Samuel started moving instantly, but the cannon infallibly tracked him. Moments later, a giant shell impacted his chest.


	6. 1-5

The thermobaric warhead exploded. A powerful shockwave threw Samuel through another wall. The nanoparticle armor held, but intense heat heavily damaged his chest electromagnets, weakening its integrity in that area.

The cyborg skidded on his back on the outside street for a dozen meters before grinding to a halt. He pushed with his hands at the asphalt with enough force to launch himself upright. Bug's swarm flew up into the air, hovering above him and following his position.

The tank, devoid of any crew beside the cape, was slowly rolling out of the building through one of the damaged walls. The construction, heavily weakened by the fighting and destruction of its walls, finally gave up and collapsed behind the war machine. Its turret was already tracking Samuel, seemingly without any action on Squealer's part, who was still peeking out of the access hatch and shouting profanity at him while flailing her arms in fury.

Depending on how good the turret's tracking and the gun's autoloader were, there could've been a risk of him dying there, he realized with a tinge of worry, but he thought that unlikely. In an urban environment, power armor held a mobility advantage over tanks, and his body was an order of magnitude faster than the tank. All he needed to do was to lure the tank between buildings, and seeing how its driver was lusting for his metaphorical blood, that should not present a problem.

He started sprinting towards a tight alleyway, footsteps thundering, stealth abandoned, trying to maximize his distance from the gun's line of fire. Another shell launched and this time missed its target, hissing past him and demolishing the wall of an abandoned building.

The next move on Squealer's part Samuel did not anticipate. The tank deployed what looked to him like a slew of solid fuel rocket motors, and with a trail of fire and smoke charged at him. It moved quickly enough to rip its own tracks to shreds, lose some of its wheels and start to glow cherry red at the bottom from sheer friction.

At the last moment, Samuel abruptly changed his direction. Asphalt under his feet broke into chunks as he lunged out of the vehicle's way. Only his left foot was clipped by it, sending him into a wild spin. He recovered quickly, and scanned his surroundings for the tank.

It had pushed through a two story building, managing to partially collapse it. Squealer's soul remained stationary for a moment and it seemed like the machine might've even been buried under the rubble, but they quickly started moving again. He knew what that meant.

Before the tank turned the corner, now hovering slightly above the ground, and made line of sight with Merchant HQ and the street before it, Samuel was already climbing through the rubble to reach a stable part of the collapsed building's roof.

"Where are you hiding you fucking cock sucking mother fucking cunt?! Come 'ere so I can rip you a new one you piece of shit!" Squealer yelled in rage at the top of her lungs, swiveling hear head in search of her opponent.

Samuel jumped off the roof and landed on top of the machine, his momentum proving enough to smash its rear end into the ground underneath it. Squealer turned to him, let out a blood curdling war cry and threw a punch at his shin, mangling her own hand. Seemingly oblivious to that, she threw a few more. Still wailing enthusiastically at his legs, Samuel threw her out of the vehicle.

Despite its driver now lying barely conscious on the ground near it, the tank still moved. It violently turned its turret, hitting Samuel's shins with its barrel. He tumbled to the ground and immediately rolled under the vehicle, hopeful that he could find a weak spot there. It unceremoniously disengaged its hover system and dropped on him.

"Boss, its AI core is probably located near the center of mass. Can you dig your way there or something?" Tattletale gave him advice in an oddly unconcerned tone.

He tried. The armor plating was strong, but he had enough tools at his disposal to cut through it. He used his electromagnets to emit strong pulses, heating the metal up. Moving teeth made of nanoparticles that constituted his primary armor cut through it like through butter.

The tank apparently recognized that the entire body of Samuel was a dangerous cutting tool and took flight. It moved backwards at a respectable speed and fired while Samuel was still getting up. He rolled in time to avoid a direct hit, but the shell still detonated in close proximity. He was yet again thrown a small distance through the air. This time, he twisted in mid-air, landed on his feet and immediately started running.

He was faster on the ground than the vehicle, but it would still have enough time to fire at least once before he closed the distance. He pondered trying to parry it, redirect its flight path by hitting its side before it detonated. That would, unfortunately, only work if it did not possess an inertial fuse, and thus was too risky.

"Tattletale, how does the tank track its targets?"

"With heat vision."

"Bug, create a wall made of insects between the tank and me. Keep it 20 meters in front of me." He commanded through his communications suite, and soon the swarm that was following him formed a wall stretching the entire width of the alley. Samuel advanced forward in an erratic pattern.

Another shell passed by, missing Samuel by a wide margin. As he predicted, the swarm generated enough heat to conceal him.

Eventually, the tank became impatient and emerged from behind the screen of insects, moving towards Samuel. A big mistake on its part. He lunged towards it before the turret could target him, passing the 20 meters that parted them in a blink of an eye, and generated a short ranged electromagnetic pulse strong enough to destroy its electronic brain. The vehicle crashed into the ground, and Samuel soon followed suite, falling limp before he could divert his power back to actuators.

"Tattletale, is it safe to load the van now?" He asked through her phone as he stood up.

"Yeah, seems like all the thugs run away while you were dueling with that tank."

"Shouldn't we take it with us too?" Bug spoke after the long silence on her part.

"I'd like to have a closer look at its engineering, but taking it with us will be both difficult and dangerous. I will push it deep into the sea for recovery at a later date. The two of you will fill the van's cargo capacity with every tool and all valuable material you can find and return to base."

"Boss, that thing weighs like sixty thousand pounds, you sure you can move that?" Tattletale said skeptically.

"Yes, after I repair its tracks. Now, do what I have tasked you with."

Half an hour later, they were done. The neutered tank was pushed deep in the abyss by Samuel, and the van was filled to the brim with Squealer's tools and materials. Bug kept anybody from interfering using her swarm, directed by the cyborg to every inbound soul.

After their triumphant return, Bug departed their base and Tattletale spent time browsing the internet on her phone, while Samuel diligently worked. He dug out a new section of the basement with his own hands, placing supports made from repurposed steel beams that he had looted from the ship graveyard. He filled it to the brim with the materials he had in store, leaving the main area mostly clear outside of Tattletale's shack. After their latest mission, outside of steel in their storage were electronics, small amounts of tungsten, alkali metals and some compound material he could not yet specify the composition of.

Tattletale complained that there was a distinct lack of running water to clean herself with, but he dismissed that for now, explaining to her how acquiring a stable source of income took a much higher priority.

His first finished build was an automated means of extracting carbon from steel and producing graphene as well as CNT out of it. It was not of the highest quality and Samuel fully expected it to break often, but it was all he could do with resources available to him. The mechanism that melted the steel to then form oxides with carbon particles was sturdy enough, if not the fastest, but his method of then extracting said compounds, dissolving them into their substrates, forming fullerenes and then shooting them at hypersonic speeds into hydrogen gas for them to unfold and bind together upon impact with the device's wall was inelegant and required massive precision to achieve high quality of products. Precision that all but assured some part would break soon. Moreover, this approach required a constant intake of various chemical reagents, which was bothersome and tedious.

Before the morning arrived, he managed to also mostly complete his stationary argent reactor, which tapped into the well of souls inside his Crucible through what could be most easily explained as a very small, transdimensional wormhole, working over any distance within the three spatial dimensions. It was a significant improvement over his original plan for accessing the Crucible's energy, which ended with him being transported to this world. It seemed that manipulating the physical body of the artefact held much more risk than interacting with the sea of energy within it, which lied dormant without the sword actively controlling it. It was a most curious discovery.

After Tattletale woke up, he approached her to discuss their next move.

"Is a relatively large scale production of graphene a worthwhile endeavor? How much gain would we be able to achieve with a square meter of the former per hour, and a kilogram of the latter per four?"

She gave him an annoyed glare.

"Geeez, maybe let me eat my breakfast before talking business, all right?"

"I apologize. Eat, then we will return to this discussion."

The ten minutes that it took her to eat left Samuel to think. He considered all possible options – if his current means of production were enough, then he could immediately acquire materials and land to construct a full scale factory and stronghold. If it wasn't, he would need to slowly build up until he could provide this society with something it lacked, and the most obvious course of action would be producing copies of his stationary argent generator. Its power output, as far as he gathered, was on par with most tinkertech equivalents, and it needed much less maintenance. As long as the Crucible remained on this plane of existence, they would provide limitless energy. His other option was mass production of weapons. His designs were invariably superior to any others that were not made by tinkers and certainly would find their place in the global market.

"Okay, I'm done. So, there is a lot of that stuff you asked about being made by Masamune. She's a mass production tinker within the Guild. So, it's not a terribly good business, unless your stuff is somehow of significantly better quality."

The Guild. He's knew of them from his inquiries on the internet. Outside of the Protectorate, they were one of the most influential organizations in the world despite having only a handful of members. Thankfully, their modus operandi did not include fighting competition, as far as he was aware.

"My products are of perfect quality."

"Nothing is per- oh wow, you really weren't kidding? That would make it real valuable, actually. Even Masamune has, like, two percent of imperfections in her stuff, and that really weakens it."

"That is satisfactory. By what means could we start our market operation? Can you create a private company on a civilian name?"

She hummed for a moment before replying "Yeah, I could, but I don't think that's a good idea. People will find out that there is a tinker behind it sooner or later, regardless of whether you are one. It's safer to go into the gray zone, the PRT overlooks that anyway."

"You admittedly know this world much better than I do, so I will follow your advice. I trust you to provide us with customers. Use whatever means you have available to make our brand known and reachable."

"Sure, but there are a few tiny little problems. First, I think you should change your cape name. It's too similar to your real one."

"My real name holds no meaning in this world."

"But if someone becomes aware that you made your cape name by just changing a single letter in your real one, they won't take you seriously. You should take a cool sounding name that is appropriate for what you do or how you look. And don't make it too farfetched. Nobody would even know what is the meaning behind you calling yourself 'Samael', you know?"

"What do you propose, then?"

"I dunno. Something like Steel Crusader, or Gray Knight would fit you I think. A hard-shell man doing what he thinks is just, casualties be damned… Yeah, fits."

Samuel remained silent and motionless for a moment that seemed like an eternity to Tattletale. Eventually, she opened her eyes a bit further and silently whispered "Oh shit."

"I… did condemn thousands of souls to their deaths. But their sacrifice will never be forgotten, even if I do not regret it being made. There _is_ blood on my hands, but I did what I did for the future of mankind. In the end, we all gained from it, both my world, and this one." Samuel said in a slower and quieter voice, sounding almost solemn despite his robotic limitations.

Tattletale winced as an expression of pain streaked across her face.

"The sword." She almost gasped.

"Indeed. Its called the 'Crucible'. With it in my hands, this world will be provided with limitless energy, and perhaps a means to fight the Endbringers, as well as… my own enemy. Now, Tattletale, stop using your power on me. It will hurt you."

"I don't understand. I don't react this way to anything else. I only get thinker headaches when I use my power too much, but on you… it instantly hurts, and I have this feeling of… uneasiness I guess." She was quiet for a moment, thinking silently. "Do you have some stranger power?" she suggested.

"Not as far as I can tell. I know too little about this world's so called 'powers' to make a definitive verdict. Though I do plan to inquire into the subject more."

"Huh. Well then, it seems like you're in luck boss, I can't do anything about you with my shtick." She tried going back to her chirpy, friendly tone and attitude, but the expression of pain that still marred her face made that impossible.

"I am fully aware that you have the capability to hurt me despite that limitation, but rest assured – it would not end well for you, or for humanity. I am an outside factor in this wicked world, one that is willing and capable to change it."

"Ok, real talk now." Any attempt at cheerfulness was gone now. "I'm not actually that unhappy working for you. Sure, you're a creepy alien robot that will kill me if I disobey, but that's hardly different from my previous employer. Except the creepy alien robot part, I think. So it's kinda all the same to me. Just give me a small chunk of the money you'll be making and we all will be happy."

"I will provide for my subordinates, rest assured." Samuel ignored being disrespectfully called a robot instead of a cyborg. He was not offended by being called a robot, but he hated inaccuracy. "I am not a villain, and I do not plan to use your help in any further criminal activities, but that's irrelevant to you, is it not? I hope our mutual loyalty will be maintained by both of us gaining what we desire. Personal wealth for you, this mankind's future for me."

"Peachy. I don't care much about the preachy bits, but you could tell them to our Bug. Just don't make it sound like you're gonna kill everyone in your way."

"Thank you, Tattletale." He turned away in a clear dismissal.

They spent the next half-an-hour filling the internet with advertisements for their newly created company. Forums, image boards and deep net all filled with fabricated proof of the existence of Union Aerospace Corporation.

Samuel admitted to himself that choosing this name was overly sentimental, but he was just a human in the end.

The operation was designed to create the illusion of an already established and respected, yet little known company researching graphene production methods. Traces of its existence were artificially assigned old dates by way of breaking into web hosting servers and changing the data inside. Most big archive servers had their databases compromised to include UAC's newly made website in their records dating back years. All done as untraceably as Samuel could manage after learning this world's computers and system architectures. After working on bringing a truly sentient AI to life in his world, this was not much of a challenge for him.

The trade system he set up was quite rudimentary, but efficient. After receiving the funds from his clients on his newly created, discreet Swiss bank account, a drone would be dispatched to deliver the bought bulk materials. The risk of someone witnessing their launch point and discovering his base existed, but his argent sensor would make it quite low. If anybody entered its range, all launches would be postponed until they vacated his premises.

Construction of the first drone took him the rest of the day, and it was still not finished. Orders started coming in, and produced materials begun to pile up. He made as much haste as was possible, but the work could not be done any faster. He first needed to create the means of producing highly sophisticated electronics and a small nuclear reactor to produce exotic matter needed for antigravity drives. When the day had ended, the unfinished drone, much larger than his already imposing body, and the new equipment covered most of the basement's area.

Digging out a hangar for the drone and constructing a roof gate with shattered concrete permanently attached to its outer side as a disguise leading it to the outside took him the entire night, and the entire next day was spent on finalizing the drone. It soon started hauling graphene to his clients by the tons, and his bank account swelled with income. Perhaps too much of it.

The scale and speed of his success surprised him. He did make sure that his clients would know his products' superiority to what Masamune produced and he did provide a much lower price, but it seemed that over the course of the day a big number of people switched from her services to his. That was very unfortunate, especially if it brought any attention from the media. Of course, sudden booms of popularity did happen naturally, but he wished to avoid too much attention too early. But, with no other strings holding him, he could abandon the whole operation easily and cut any ties to it.

-

Tattletale's phone rung. With a small sigh, she answered the call.

"Hi Taylor. What's up?"

"Hey Lisa. Can we meet up somewhere? I want to discuss something." Taylor's voice emerged from the phone.

"Umm, I'm not sure about that. Our previous boss knows my identity; he could snatch me off the streets if I went outside. That's kinda how he recruited me in the first place. Maybe you come over to my place?"

"No, that's the thing. I want to talk about our new boss. And it's not a talk fit for the phone."

"Huh, figures. Know what? Meet me outside the base."

"I'll be there in ten."

"See ya" Lisa ended the call.

Fifteen minutes later, she crawled out of the base's hidden access hatch and saw Bug sitting on block of concrete that used to be a pillar. Costumed.

"Jesus, what's the costume for?" Tattletale asked incredulously.

"I don't feel safe in this part of town without it."

"You're just asking Coil to track you down. But fine, whatever. I don't think anybody followed you."

"Coil? Who is that?" Taylor slightly cocked her masked head to the side.

"He's our previous employer." Lisa said and looked like she wanted to immediately continue, but Taylor spoke before that could happen.

"Yeah, about that. We should move somewhere farther from here."

"Nah, he can't hear you here." She furrowed her brows. "I think. But lead the way."

They moved to a nearby abandoned building, one without any windows or doors, but it put a solid wall between the entrance hatch and them.

"So, Lisa. I have something important to tell you, but promise me you won't freak about it, ok?" Taylor asked with uncertainty in her voice.

"You want to tell me you're a snitch, right?" A warm smile appeared on Lisa's face.

"What. How did you… No, for how long have you known?" Taylor initially appeared completely shocked, but quickly recovered, even if she remained nervous.

"Since the beginning" Lisa's smile transformed into a vulpine grin. "Don't worry; I don't hold that against you or anything.

"You knew? Then why…?" Taylor wasn't given a chance to finish before Lisa spoke.

"Because I like you, Taylor. You're an interesting person. I wanted to see what would you do, I wanted to get to know you."

"Is it true? Why were you not afraid I'd betray you, that you would get in jail because of me?"

"I doubted you would do that. You needed some good friends in your life." Lisa's grin transformed into a warm smile.

"Huh." Taylor crossed her arms and let the conversation stall for a moment.

"I don't really know how to respond to that." She continued, then fell silent again.

"You don't have to respond to that. We're still friends, I'm not a villain anymore, Undersiders don't exist, and that's the end of the subject."

"But… what about Brian, and Alec, and Bitch?"

"I'm gonna miss them, especially Brian, but what happens with them is beyond our influence. Regent and Bitch are still in arrest, and our boss won't allow us to break them out."

"Yeah, I don't know how to feel about that. That's exactly what I originally wanted, but now it feels… wrong, somehow. I thought it was noble and heroic to put villains in prison, but Alec was an all right person. Not at all how I imagined villains to be. I'm not sure if he deserved it or not, and it bothers me. A lot."

"I noticed how you omitted Rachel there." Lisa smirked slightly tauntingly.

"I never liked her. But even she was part of the team, and it feels shitty that even she has to go. I don't know, it's all fucking messed up, you know?"

"Yeah, I know. It all went to shit. But hey, look at the bright side – now we work for a hero, no more undercover villainy for you." Lisa smirked again, more faintly than before "And Brian is still out there. Maybe we can bring him here, so he too might become a noble hero."

"You think Samael is a hero?" Taylor's voice was full of doubt.

"More of a one that our previous boss, that's for sure. Have you heard how zealously he preached about saving humanity?"

"He fucking killed Mush. And left his body there to rot. He didn't even seem in any way bothered by that. That's hardly heroic, you know?"

"Taylor, it was an accident. Sure, boss's a bit… Detached, but he doesn't intend to harm anyone. Lately all he was doing was producing and selling some super strong materials, so that people can build more durable stuff. He even priced it ridiculously low compared to what Masamune charges for her stuff, like it's a charity."

"Wait, what? I didn't know that."

"He only started last night. And he's already sold literal tons of the stuff, he's tech is pretty good at mass producing things. I think he's gonna do more good than bad in the long run."

"So what am I supposed to do? Just sit by and watch as he does business while I'm paid for my silence?"

"What's wrong with that? You could be set for life."

"That's not why I became a hero, Lisa! I wanted to change something in the world, help fight the good fight, put criminals in jails! Now, I'm stuck being paid by a sketchy guy who has killed before, for keeping silent on how he's a murderer from outer space. It's fucking demented."

"The entire cape world is demented, Taylor. It's all just pretense, not all villains are bad people and not all heroes are good guys. It's all just a messed up game, you shouldn't sweat so much about it."

"No, I think you're wrong here. It's a 'game' where people die. Mush didn't need to have a giant chunk of metal impale him just because 'boss' wanted to steal some of his stuff. This is all kinds of wrong."

"You think our previous boss was better in that field?"

"Of course not, that's why I wanted to sell him out to the PRT!"

"Damn, ok, calm down. Taylor, you know that whether we live or die depends on our creepy robot employer. He's already shown that he can track us with ease. Besides that, I know too much for Coil to just let me go. I cannot really leave boss'es fancy bat-cave unless I want to risk being killed in a drive-by or kidnapped. So I'm kinda stuck here. You have a much better deal here, you know?"

"So what am I supposed to do?"

"If you must do something, I guess you could go solo vigilante. Boss won't mind. I can even do mission control for you whenever I'm not busy."

"So you're telling me not to rat on him despite him having killed Mush?"

"Yeah. Even if you did, that would just result in a long court case that could swing either way. Merchants are not really that good with the judicial system. If you absolutely need to do that anyway, just give me a notice so I can scramble, all right?"

"Okay. I'll… have to think about this. Shit, I hate this situation."

"I'm fine myself, you know? Steady pay, few duties, I'd be all for it if not for the fact that I'm confined to a dirty cave." Lisa grinned wide.

"You're not making this easier for me. We could escape him together, send PRT after him and hide."

"And I'd be left jobless, you'd be left jobless and our cape careers would be in ruin. We would both be villains with a track record of betraying two employers in a row. PRT would be after us too. That's sort of a horrible scenario. Trust me, I'm the thinker."

"Fuck, dammit. I'll have to think about this some more. I'll give you heads up if I plan to do anything. I don't think I want to see you in jail, just don't do anything villainous, okay?"

Tattletale responded with a mock offended expression that only partially hid her smile.

"Why would you suspect me of something so dastardly? I'm a hero now, remember?"

"Working for a murderer."

"Jesus, so are you,"

"That's why I want to sell him out-"

"Okay, fine, let's drop the subject, all right? I don't want to argue with you, Taylor. It's no fun for either of us."

Taylor sighed.

"Fine. So, what now?"

"You know, I'm getting kinda hungry. Wanna order pizza?"

"But, won't that give away the location of our base?"

"Nah, we'll go a city block from here and take the order outside. If anything bad happens, boss can just run here in a minute."

"Sound good to me."

-

"Boss, I'm going for a walk."

"Please do make it brief. You yourself told me how dangerous your previous employer is."

"I'm gonna wither and die if I stay confined to this cave all the time, you know?"

"I am aware. Once I finish my preparations, we can deal with that particular problem."

"Say, boss, how's that fancy gun you were making coming along?"

"It is finished. Very unfortunately, I had to work with subpar materials and tools, making it… barely satisfactory. No, it is not enough to make me certain of triumphing over an established villain organization, you do not need to ask that."

"Whatever. I'll be back soon."

Tattletale grabbed a stuffed bag and scaled the ladder leading outside. There, after making sure nobody was looking, she retrieved her costume from the bag.

Costumed, she set out for a casual stroll around the area.

Meanwhile, Samuel's communications suite received a strong signal directed at his base. A message.

"Hello, Samael. My name is Dragon."


End file.
